The Last Kefsen by jardyn39

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/03/2005
Last Updated: 03/04/2005
Status: Completed

Returned to Grimmauld Place, a depressed Harry is attacked leaving him to share a coma with a
monstrous shape-changing creature that helps him through his grieving. Taking the form of Hermione,
she insists he must re-organise his memories, revise for his exam re-sits and wake up in time for
the start of term! She then follows Harry back to school, determined to make him accept a terrible
truth. Distractions include encounters with some errant cheerleader battens, a duel with a Knight
in armour and the discovery of two most unlikely guardian angels. Completed.




1. Harold
---------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Prologue**

It is a less than a week since Harry returned to Privet Drive after finishing his Fifth Year at
Hogwarts. He is resigned to staying with the Dursleys for the entire summer and is still grieving
the loss of his godfather.

**Chapter 1: Harold**

It was about eight o’clock on a bright Tuesday morning in early July. Harry Potter had just left
his Aunt and Uncle’s house in Privet Drive. He strode quickly for a few yards down the road in his
relief at getting away and then slowed immediately when he realised that he was in no hurry and had
nowhere particular to go.

He shivered slightly in the cool morning breeze. Perhaps he should have put more than just his
T-shirt on. He wouldn’t go back to change though. *It was bound to warm up later* he thought
to himself looking up into the clear blue sky.

Harry had gone about eight houses along the road when he realised he was approaching an elderly
man struggling to get something large and heavy out of the open boot of his car. Harry recognised
him as a neighbour that had lived in the street for as long as Harry could remember. They had never
spoken and Harry had no idea what his name was.

Harry regretted not seeing him sooner as he would have crossed the road to avoid him. As he was
so close now he decided to continue past on this pavement side. He decided to hurry past.

As he drew level he heard the man groan, drop the bag, and straighten up. He cursed under his
breath and looking up at Harry said, “Morning.” Harry thought he looked like he was in his
mid-eighties. He was quite thin and stood with a slight stoop. His hair was white and neatly
slicked back. He wore old dark coloured jeans, a collared shirt, a woollen jumper with several
large holes and an old dark coloured jacket and one of the pockets was frayed slightly.

Harry gave a weak smile and mumbled “Morning.” He had continued on for two steps and then
stopped.

He couldn’t just walk by.

“Excuse me, but can I, er, help at all?” asked Harry. The old man straightened up again and
looked at Harry with mild surprise.

“I could use a hand, thanks,” he croaked with a small smile. “These are a bit heavy. The DIY
store loaded this into the car for me yesterday but I didn’t really think about unloading!”

Harry smiled and stepped off the kerb and around to the back of the car. He saw that the boot
contained a large polythene bag full of sand. It looked very heavy.

“Grab hold of one end and we’ll lift together,” said the old man.

Harry did as directed but knew immediately that it wouldn’t work. It was very awkward leaning
into the small boot opening and he could see that the old man struggled to keep hold of the wet
plastic bag.

“Tell you what,” said Harry after their first attempt, “let me see if I can get the bag out.”
Before the old man could protest, Harry leaned in and wrapped his arms around the bag. He managed
to get a good purchase and heaved the bag half-way out of the boot leaving it balanced on the
rim.

Harry shifted his arms slightly and then pulled the bag up into his forearms. As he did so he
realised there were several more bags of sand and cement underneath.

“Hey, mind you don’t hurt your back!”

“That’s better,” Harry said, trying not to sound like he was straining as much as he was. “Where
do you want it?”

“In the back garden, at the bottom.”

“Lead the way!” said Harry as he walked forward.

The old man hurried to the side gate and opened it. Harry followed and carried the bag into the
garden. He would have liked to have dropped the bag immediately but decided he would rather not try
and lift it again. Instead he proceeded down along the concrete path to the bottom of the garden to
where a small patch of ground had been cleared.

“Drop it there.”

Harry waddled over and finally dropped the bag. The bag had been getting lower and lower as his
grip had begun to fail on the way. He straightened up rubbing his lower back. “That was heavier
than it looked!” he said smiling.

“Thanks,” the old man said, and Harry saw his eyes flicker up to the gate and he realised he was
wondering about the other bags still in the car boot. Harry looked around and saw an old
wheel-barrow.

“How about we use that barrow for the others?” he said smiling still trying to get his breath
back.

“I didn’t think of that! Thanks ever so much for helping. My name is Harold by the way,” and he
held a craggy hand out. Harry shook Harold’s hand and realised they were both still shaking from
the effort of lifting the bag.

“No problem. I’m Harry,” he said and he went over and dragged the wheelbarrow out from the
bushes. It was very old and rusty but it would do nicely. He reached in and lifted out the three
old bricks that were inside and placed them on the ground before following Harold back up the
path.

Half an hour later they had unloaded the car and Harry returned the wheelbarrow to its original
position. As he walked back up the path he looked around the garden. It was kept very neatly.
Harold obviously enjoyed gardening. About a third of the garden was given over to vegetables and
the remainder was grass and planting beds.

As he got back to the patio at the back of the house Harold met him with two steaming mugs of
tea.

“Thanks!” Harry said, taking the drink. He lifted the mug to his mouth and felt his arm muscles
shake. Instinctively he brought up his other hand so as to hold the mug steady as he drank. “So
what are you building, Harold? I can see you’ve cleared some space down there.”

“Base for a greenhouse. It’s coming next week so I thought I’d better get a move on.”

At that moment Harry heard a rustling noise. Both he and Harold looked sideways to the
neighbouring fence. It was an old timber close-boarded fence with several broken and missing
boards. Behind the fence, on the other side, was a large privet hedge.

Harry thought he could see movement through the small openings in the fence but what gave the
concealed neighbours away was the giggling and whispers.

“Alright ‘Arold? Ready to learn some new moves?” asked a loud girl’s voice which was immediately
followed by louder giggling. Harry smiled and guessed there were three young girls in the bushes
looking through the fence.

“I’m still working on the last ones!” said Harold laughing and as he gave a small wiggle of his
hips the girls laughed loudly.

“Nat, what are you doing in there?” came a woman’s voice. “Oh, hello Harold,” she said warmly as
she cleared the end of the hedge heading towards a washing line. She was a tall woman carrying a
large basket of washing.

“Morning, Dear,” said Harold, still laughing. Harry heard more rustling as the girls extricated
themselves from the bushes followed by a click. Music blared out and Harry saw the woman pause from
hanging the clothes and look back at the girls with a frown. The volume was immediately
lowered.

“Er,” began Harry, “So would you like a hand with the base?”

“I would,” began Harold but his face dropped as he continued “but can’t really afford …”

Harry smiled. “I haven’t anything better to do. Pay me in teas!” and he drained his mug.

*

By then end of the day, Harry had cleared away the rest of undergrowth and dug down past the
topsoil over the area that would be needed. They measured and pegged out the base and Harold
explained that he needed a clear path around the greenhouse to the base had to be big enough for
that too.

Harry, who admitted knowing nothing at all about building, was impressed at how knowledgeable
Harold was. He clearly knew exactly how to build the base even if his physical strength was no
longer there. Harry sensed Harold’s frustration and several times had to stop him lifting and
carrying.

Harry had begun dropping the broken brick and concrete rubble into the sunken marked out area
when Harold suggested they call it a day. Harold, who had been collecting this rubble in small
amounts over quite some time, advised Harry that this would form the sub-base and would need to be
compacted to form a firm base.

It was only when Harry climbed the stairs up to his bedroom that he realised how exhausted he
was. He dived into the shower and was in such a rush not to be late for dinner he didn’t have time
to get annoyed that Dudley had just used up the last of the hot water.

He dumped his sweaty clothes in the laundry hamper and went straight to the kitchen tap. He
drank the first glass of water immediately before refilling his glass and taking it to the
table.

Aunt Petunia eyed him suspiciously. “What have you been doing?”

“I’ve been helping Harold at No. 14. He’s building a greenhouse base. I asked if I could
help.”

“Harold? Old Mr Smith you mean?”

“I suppose. He just said his name was Harold. Oh, and he gave me some seedlings he said were
spare. He thought you might like to have them for the garden.”

*

“Thanks, that was really nice,” said Harry as he handed his empty plate to Aunt Petunia as she
collected the dishes. She seemed to struggle to accept his compliment. It had been just the two of
them for dinner and they had eaten in the kitchen. Uncle Vernon had been entertaining clients for
lunch and was not expected back until later. Dudley had rushed out just before dinner and Harry was
thankful since he got Dudley’s meal.

“May I be excused?” asked Harry.

Aunt Petunia just nodded and Harry rose from the table. Without thinking he went over to the
sink and turned on the hot water tap. Feeling the water temperature rise he placed the bowl under
the tap and reached for the washing up liquid. As the bowl filled he went back over to the table
and took the plates from Aunt Petunia who was watching him closely. She looked like she was about
to say something when the doorbell rang. She got up and hurried to the front door.

Harry started to clean the dishes when he heard muffled voices and laughs. He heard Aunt
Petunia’s give a high false laugh before shutting the front door. Curious, he went into the living
room only to find Uncle Vernon sitting in his favourite chair, smiling stupidly and with a rather
glazed look. He was very drunk and quite oblivious to Aunt Petunia’s livid stare.

Harry smiled at Aunt Petunia and glanced out of the window to see three suited gentlemen
struggling to get back in their mini cab. They looked quite inebriated too.

*

The next day, Harry and Harold finished the sub-base and placed the side shuttering. They spend
some time checking that everything was square and level but only after Harry had compacted the
rubble. He had rather enjoyed that, whacking the brick and concrete into the ground with an
assortment of heavy implements.

During the morning, Hedwig came over to inspect the works while Harold was making some tea.

“What do you think?” he asked her as she sat on the fence. She hooted approvingly before flying
off. He presumed she was satisfied. Hedwig had a keen sense about how he was feeling. *Yes*,
he thought, *I am feeling better.* He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pulled Harold’s old
leather gloves back on and carried on working.

They finished about mid afternoon as Harold said they would need a full day to mix and lay the
concrete for the base.

They both sat drinking tea enjoying the garden and seeing the occasional sparkling batten spin
high into the air from next door. The mysterious batten throwers were certainly getting better,
Harry thought. He had retrieved and returned several errant battens so far. He would hold the
batten over the fence waiting for it to be grabbed by a small hand. Sometimes he would receive a
shy, “Ta,” but usually it was just more giggles.

Harry found he enjoyed doing physical labour. He could switch off, stop himself from thinking
about recent events. He had slept soundly last night too.

“You just finished your exams, Harry?”

“Yes. I start … *Advanced* levels in September if my marks are high enough,” replied Harry,
hoping he would not inquire too deeply.

“They take two years?” asked Harold. Harry nodded.

“I know a lot of young people can’t wait to leave school. It’ll be much better in the long run
if you stick at it for as long as you can.”

Harry looked over to him.

“I left school at fourteen and ended up taking evening classes so I could get the certificates I
needed. It’s called vocational training now, I believe. The courses weren’t difficult but it took a
lot of effort to give up so many evenings. Have you thought about what you want to do after
school?”

Harry shrugged. “I have thought about it. There’s only one thing I have seriously thought about
but the entry requirements are a bit steep.”

Harold raised is eyebrows enquiringly. “It’s sort of to do with the law,” said Harry, not
wanting to explain too much.

“Oh great, another bloody lawyer!” Harold said grinning at him as another wayward batten landed
on the grass just in front of them.



2. Another
----------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 2: Another**

Harold had asked Harry if they could do the concreting of the base on Friday since he had some
things to do on Thursday. So instead, Harry spent the whole of the next day doing chores around the
garden at home under Aunt Petunia’s watchful eye.

Thankfully, Dudley was out somewhere, so he wasn’t tormented.

He also planted the seedlings Harold had given him, finishing late in the evening.

Throughout the day, Harry thought back over his conversations with Harold. It was certainly nice
having someone to talk to civilly. Harry was sure he must have a shocking reputation with all of
the neighbours, although if Harold had heard of any rumours he certainly hadn’t indicated as
such.

Harold clearly realised that Harry was troubled, but chose to act like Harry was as
incomprehensible to him as any teenager would be. He just seemed happy to accept Harry as himself.
Harry was very grateful to Harold for this, especially as he wasn’t exactly at his best at the
moment.

He still suffered sudden and unexpected moments of pure grief. He just never knew they were
coming before they hit him.

Harry remembered with a pang when Harold had been telling him a story concerning a friend’s dog.
Harry had been fine until Harold described one of the dog’s antics that suddenly reminded Harry of
Sirius. Harold just let Harry go back to his hammering and nothing more was said.

Harold had made no enquiry about what was troubling him, and Harry was sure he never would.

Harold was someone who was easy to talk to. He was a good listener, and had listened attentively
to the little girl from next door as she enthused about the family holiday they would be embarking
on in a couple of weeks. Harry had smiled as Harold joked how he wished his sparkly bathing costume
still fitted and how she should watch out for toe nibbling crabs in the rock pools.

A while later, Harry emerged from his hammering again to find them engrossed in a more serious
discussion. Harry couldn’t be sure what was troubling the girl, but he just caught the end of what
Harold was saying.

“Well,” he said gently, “I can understand that. I know it can be difficult not to lash out when
you’re upset. I’ve always tended not to. I suppose that’s my nature. I’ve sometimes wondered what
might have happened had I not shown restraint when I was younger. The thing is, decisions like that
can’t help but affect the person you grow up to be. Sometimes, we all act or say things we regret
later. The key is recognising that we’ve hurt the people we love or care about, and doing something
about it. That’s hard to do sometimes, and the more often you don’t, the harder it gets.”

Something about Harold made Harry feel he could trust him. He was a gentle and caring man whose
long life clearly included many experiences.

It really didn’t matter that they lived in different worlds for most of the time. This had
nothing to do with magic but everything to do with life.

After many changes of mind, Harry finally resolved to tell Harold about Sirius.

He would understand. Perhaps he could offer some words of comfort, or at least perhaps tell
Harry if these feelings would ever heal.

Having successfully exhausted himself after another long day, Harry showered and then went
straight to bed.

Hopefully, he would be tired enough to sleep without having his usual nightmares.

*

On Friday morning, Harry woke to find he had overslept.

He stared at his bedside clock in disbelief. *It couldn’t be ten o’clock*.

Shaking himself awake he rushed into the bathroom to take a hurried shower. At last he tore down
the front path saying a hurried, “See you later!” to Aunt Petunia who was gossiping to a neighbour
in the front garden. He didn’t really register the serious expressions they both wore.

Harry ran down the road but slowly ground to a halt as he took in the scene before him with
growing dread.

Outside the front on Harold’s house was a clean white car with green markings down the side. As
Harry drew level with Harold’s house he stopped to see a man holding a doctor’s case standing on
the front path talking to the next door neighbour he’d seen before. Harry saw that her daughter was
standing with her hands clutched around her middle with her face buried in the front of her
mother’s apron. Her mother was tenderly stroking her back.

“Well, I’d best be off,” said the doctor and he returned to his car.

The neighbour turned to Harry and gave a small smile.

She had tears in her eyes.

“Harold died, dear,” she said gently. “His meals-on-wheels found him. The doctor said he passed
away peacefully in his sleep.”

Harry nodded blankly.

He didn’t know what to say.

Harry stared down at the pavement, his thoughts haywire.

He felt a hand touch him gently on the shoulder.

Looking up momentarily, Harry saw that it was Aunt Petunia.

*

Harry went straight up to his bedroom when they returned to the house. He lay on his bed over
the covers and thought.

Harold had been an old man. Nobody else seemed particularly surprised that he had died due to
his great age. Harry had seen that he had been a little weak and had tired quickly. Even so, he
didn’t exactly look like he was on his death-bed.

He really didn’t want to think about the implications of Harold’s death being anything other
than natural causes. Somehow, though, that wasn’t really the thing that bothered Harry the
most.

The stark reality facing Harry was that yet another person close to him had died suddenly. He
wasn’t really ready for that, especially having happened so soon after the loss of Sirius. Harry
found his thoughts haunted by the memories of his short time with Harold.

The sensible thing to do would have been to contact the Order.

He knew that.

Unfortunately, the crying little girl from next door seemed to especially affect him.

He just couldn’t get the sight and sound of her out of his head.

*

The change that Harold’s death brought upon Harry was alarmingly quick.

Even Aunt Petunia tried talking to him. She couldn’t understand why Harold’s death had affected
Harry so badly. She didn’t appear to know anything about Sirius and Harry couldn’t face telling
her. Uncle Vernon eventually insisted that Harry be left to, “*stew in his own juices*”. Harry
felt indifferent to them at that point, although he had a faint sense that Aunt Petunia’s attitude
had changed. She had not scorned him when he stopped doing his chores and her *fear* of Harry
and what he was, seemed less close to the surface. If he had been more himself, he would perhaps
have recognised her concern was shifting *for* him.

Perhaps Dumbledore had assumed the antagonism between them would distract Harry from his other
feelings. It didn’t. Nothing the Dursleys said or did could have affected Harry in the
slightest.

For a short while after, Harry had had kept up his letters to the Order. These had started being
short and got shorter with each one. His penultimate note told them he was not going to write every
three days and asked them not to visit and make things difficult for him with the Dursleys.

*He was fine*, he lied.

Harry’s depression, which had been stalking him from the moment he had left King’s Cross,
finally enveloped him to the point where he just stopped. The shock of Harold’s death brought
everything back tenfold.

In the back of his mind Harry knew he was being irrational. He promised himself he would snap
out of this. He *would*. Just not now though. *It was all too much just now*.

Harry found a strange kind of solace. He craved silence and solitude. He found he could venture
out of his room only when the house was quiet and this was usually during the night. Even when the
house was empty, Harry became obsessed with making as little noise as possible. Silence was best.
He moved slowly, making no sound, always listening intensely. Silence was calming. Silence was
comforting. If he was silent he could pretend not to exist. If he did not exist, he would not feel
pain.

Aunt Petunia began leaving out meals for him in the kitchen. Harry ate only when he was sure
Dudley hadn’t got there first. Once Harry heard Aunt Petunia shouting angrily when she discovered
Dudley doing something to the food, presumably he had found out it was for Harry. From then onwards
Aunt Petunia brought food to Harry’s room and each time made anguished attempts to get him to talk,
first making sure Dudley or Uncle Vernon weren’t there to interrupt.

Sporadically owls would arrive and drop their deliveries. These letters remained unopened and
hidden out of sight. They were not hidden from the Dursleys. If they were out of sight, he might
forget them. He was afraid of those letters and dreaded the poisonous accusations that he was sure
they contained. *It was his fault*. As it was, the letters practically screamed at him.

Hedwig disappeared a few days after Harry had stopped writing to the Order. In his stupor he
barely missed her. She returned a little later with a letter from Hermione. Harry might have opened
it, if it had come sooner, but not now.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to write. He just didn’t want to risk the recipients
corresponding. He had particularly wanted to write to Albus Dumbledore, to apologise for his
behaviour and words. He had wanted to write to Mrs Longbottom to explain about Neville’s wand. He
had wanted to write to Ron, telling him how much his unwavering friendship meant to him. He had
wanted to write to Hermione, to thank her for, well, everything. *If only he had listened to
her*.

The few times he had sat and tried to write, all the painful emotions that were bottled up
inside him seemed to boil up. He found he couldn’t express himself at all and would eventually give
up, always ending up with a screwed up blank piece parchment.

When his mind was actually able to stop dwelling on Sirius, Harry found himself agonising over
Hermione’s injuries and how she had almost been lost. He then generally felt more guilt that he
should also be thinking about the four others he had put at risk too.

After that, his mind would return to Sirius and the cycle of painful thoughts would begin
again.

*

When Remus Lupin knocked gently and opened Harry’s bedroom door at Privet Drive, Harry had
remained hunched up against the wall under the window with his arms wrapping his head. He’d
flinched when Lupin spoke but did not look up.

Harry did not register what Lupin had said to him at all.

Lupin had left the room and could be heard giving abrupt orders for whoever else was there
outside his room to go. Harry had felt a little relief that he had gone.

In his mind Harry begged for the silence to come back.

When Lupin returned he drew out his wand and with a broad wave he packed Harry’s trunk.
Everything Harry had left around the room, his clothes, books, parchment and wand including an
assortment of broken quills and the entire contents of his waste paper basket.

Lupin said nothing at all until finally he said gently, “We’re going now Harry, we have a
Portkey.”

Harry barely registered the familiar pull of the Portkey but he remained standing when his feet
slammed onto the floor.



3. An Echo that Refused to Die
------------------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 3: An Echo that Refused to Die**

Harry stood still in the middle of the entrance hallway to Number 12 Grimmauld Place staring
into space. Behind him he was vaguely aware of the front door being closed followed by the familiar
noises of the door being locked.

Someone unseen had just left. He didn’t really care who it was, anyway.

Harry realised he had no real idea how long he had been at Privet Drive.

“How about a nice cup of tea? I’ll put the kettle on.”

Harry nodded slightly as Lupin put down the trunk, carefully placed Hedwig’s empty cage on top
and then went down to the kitchen.

It was quiet again. He was alone again.

As the quiet washed over him again Harry felt a little of his anxiety leave him. Harry had been
afraid that he was going to have a reception committee. Harry made a mental note to thank Lupin for
not allowing that.

Harry looked around, not moving from the spot. He noticed that the troll’s leg umbrella stand
was gone. Remembering what happened when it got knocked over, Harry looked over at where Sirius’
mother’s portrait had hung.

One side of the curtain that had covered the portrait was missing and the other side has partly
torn down. The portrait itself was gone completely. Sirius must have managed to remove it.

Harry’s insides tightened at the thought of Sirius and for a moment Harry closed his eyes,
fighting to control his emotions, fighting not to make a noise.

A sudden crash coming from the downstairs kitchen followed by a curse from Lupin caused Harry to
open his eyes.

Harry found himself being driven away from the noise coming up from the basement. With no
distinct memory of getting there, he found himself upstairs outside Buckbeak’s room.

He entered, and found it empty. The scratches and claw marks were there, but no Buckbeak. He
wondered vaguely how long Buckbeak had been gone.

Harry left the room, careful not to make any noise, and continued further upstairs. When he
reached the top of the last flight of stairs and could climb no higher, Harry looked around. In
front of him was a door which had been propped open and the opening led to a long narrow corridor.
The timber door frame was splintered showing it had recently been forced open. It also looked like
the door had been papered over at some point.

He had not noticed this door before and, just to delay the time when he would have to return
downstairs, Harry entered the corridor. The paint was peeling from the walls and the floor had bare
timber floorboards. The corridor was dimly lit by small dirty roof-lights.

Harry’s progress was slow along the corridor. The hard floor and echoing walls made it
challenging to make no noise. Turning a corner, eventually he reached a plain door at the end of
the corridor.

He realised he had been just standing and staring at the door for some time with no real
thoughts running through his head. He shook his head gently. *He really should go back down
stairs.*

He gently tried to turn the door knob. After all the noise he’d imagined making getting there,
he would have to try and open this door in complete silence. It would not move. Letting go, Harry
thought to himself that the door was probably magically sealed and could not be opened by force
anyway. Harry’s thoughts moved to his wand. *Where was it? Oh yeah, downstairs in the trunk. Not
much point in carrying it when you’re not supposed to do magic outside school.*

It then suddenly occurred to Harry that returning to Sirius’ house wasn’t quite the debilitating
experience he was expecting. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. *He still felt the pain, yes,
but he also felt a small degree of comfort somehow*. Harry thought how the loud bark of Sirius’
laughs used to echo through the house. It was as if the last echo, now inaudible, refused to
die.

Harry turned, determined that his return journey would be as quiet as possible this time. At the
same time, Harry thought he heard a faint shuffling sound coming from inside the room.

He listened intently. *Had he just imagined it?*

Harry looked again at the door. It looked like it had not been opened in years.

Harry felt his curiosity grow and he automatically held up his hand to the knob again. Resting
his fingers loosely over the cold dull brass knob, Harry surprised himself when he heard himself
whisper absently, “Alohomora”.

Instantly he felt the round door knob turn under his still fingers and the door opened slightly
into the room.

Harry mentally cursed himself for breaking his silence. *He had not spoken for how long
now?* His annoyance with himself didn’t stop him being sure that it was he that opened the door.
The fact that he had again performed magic outside school, and wand-less magic at that, would only
occur to him later.

For a long moment Harry stood at the ajar door listening intently. He heard nothing. Slowly
Harry pushed open the door, feeling resistance in the hinges that had not moved for some time. He
pushed harder, pleased that the door made no sound as it opened, until he felt the bottom of the
door wedge against something firm.

The gap between the door and the jamb was now wide enough to enter. Harry moved into the room
but stayed in front of the door so he could see about a third of the room which appeared to be
empty save for some old packing crates. Harry could see a dirty window ahead with tattered dusty
curtains drawn letting in a little light. The floor boards were bare and dusty.

Harry let his eyes become accustomed to the dim light and listened again. Nothing. He was now
sure the room was empty. The air in the room had a dry, stale smell.

Harry stepped silently around the door to look into the rest of the room. Harry took an audible
intake of breath at the sight before him. He froze.

A grotesquely giant spider, at least ten feet across, lay apparently at its ease in the middle
of the room on an assortment of large timber packing crates. *Was it an acromantula*? It was
certainly big enough to be. Its body was covered in fine hair the colour of a beautiful golden
brown with cream markings. It was breathing gently and was facing a small fireplace which was on
the wall opposite from the door.

His heart now pounding, Harry thought furiously.

*What on earth was this thing doing here*? It did not look exactly like a domestic pet.
Harry was sure it would make a meal of him given half a chance. He had no wand. His quiet entry
into the room was probably why it had not reacted. Shouting for help would be a bad idea, Harry
decided. No, he would quietly back out of the door.

He had moved barely an inch before the enormous arachnid suddenly turned and reared up to him
sending packing crates crashing about the room.

Hit by a blinding flash of white light that somehow appeared to come from the creature, he felt
a flash of heat across his face. Harry was then pushed backwards into the wall by some force.
Toppling, Harry then felt his shoulder impact heavily on the floor.

Harry was scrambling to get to his feet when he suddenly felt his head would explode with pain.
In agony Harry screwed his eyes closed and suddenly felt a surge of energy flow through him.
*What was this creature?*

Fighting the pain, he forced his eyes open, expecting the creature very close now and ready to
finish him. He was determined to face up to this monster even if these were his last moments.
Perhaps a well aimed kick would give the creature something to remember him by, at least.

Harry could not see properly but the acromantula had gone. Standing before him, bathed in a
strange golden light, was a lone indistinct figure. It looked the size of a normal person, perhaps
a little shorter than himself. Harry could not make out their features but they appeared to be in
some discomfort, waving their arms defensively into the air. He could not tell where the light was
coming from.

The figure froze when it saw Harry and their eyes met. Instantly the figure yelled and charged
towards him, and the light around them turned bright white. The yell turned into a ghastly
high-pitched scream. Harry covered his ears but it made no difference – the scream was in his mind.
He yelled aloud as the pain intensified. Suddenly the light turned bright gold again and figure
collapsed in a heap just in front of Harry. The screaming in his head stopped abruptly.

Harry froze in shock as he recognised the figure. *No. How could this be?*

She tilted her head up and Harry could not help himself from looking into those eyes. The
coldness of her look ran through him. Suddenly her face distorted with malice and she began to
whisper to him. Harry could not stop listening intently to these words of spite, and he did not
notice the distant shouts and running footsteps echoing down the corridor.

With every word he felt weaker until Harry finally closed his eyes and surrendered to
unconsciousness.

*

Harry woke warm, relaxed and comfortable. He sleepily opened his eyes and looked around.
Squinting, he reached out and took the glasses which were on a bedside table.

He propped himself up, adjusted his glasses and looked around the room. The room had no window
and was lit by a single dull ceiling pendant light. The shade looked just like the one Aunt Petunia
had chosen for the top landing at Privet Drive.

Across the room Harry noticed a small framed print hanging on the wall. Harry frowned. That
print, he thought, was the same as the one Dudley had drawn graffiti over two or three summers ago.
Harry had liked that print, which was of a sunset on a beach somewhere. Come to think of it,
thought Harry, the frame looked similar too.

Harry threw off the covers and made to get out of bed. He noticed he was wearing pyjamas.
*His* old pyjamas. They seemed to fit him, but he had outgrown *these* pyjamas last year.
Aunt Petunia had cut them up for rags. *Hadn’t she?*

Harry sat on the edge of the bed. Something very strange was happening here. As Harry begun to
survey this strange room with growing curiosity, the door opened.

“Harry, you’re awake at last!”

Carrying an enormous vase with fresh cut flowers in it and wearing a broad smile was
Hermione.

Despite his misgivings about these strange surroundings, Harry felt a grin spread across his
face and replied in a whisper, “Hi.”

Harry had actually been dreading seeing any of his friends again. He felt Hermione especially
would be disappointed in him.

Yet now it came to it, he was very glad indeed to see a friendly face. Especially hers.

He had no idea how he knew. She looked, sounded and acted identically in every way, and yet
somehow Harry was sure this wasn’t his Hermione.

“I should introduce myself, my name is Harry Potter. Who are you?”



4. Memories
-----------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 4: Memories**

*"I should introduce myself, my name is Harry Potter. Who are you?"*

Harry felt pretty stupid saying this to Hermione. He wondered how she would react.

"Well, I must say, I thought it would take you much longer to figure me out!" she said
smiling.

Placing the vase gently on the bedside table and holding out her hand she continued, "My
name is Jen, and I took this form from your memories. I can only assume the shape of females and
frankly, there was not a lot of choice."

"My memories?" asked Harry shaking her hand. Jen looked, sounded and acted
*exactly* like Hermione. *And yet*.

"Yes. Everything here is from your memories. Do you like the room? It took ages to find the
wallpaper! I had to settle for that sample you covered your history textbook with when you were in
Primary School!" Jen said brightly, looking around. "It was much easier when you were
asleep. I knew at once when you were awake because of what appeared next door a moment
ago."

"What did you mean *not a lot of choice*?"

"Well, I suppose you had better come and see," and with that Jen crossed back to the
door and beckoned Harry to follow.

Harry stood and pulling on a dressing gown draped over the end of the bed, he followed.

He was standing in a large high rectangular room that had many rows of timber shelves on three
walls from floor to ceiling. On the far wall was a large ornate fireplace with a roaring fire. The
wall appeared to be covered entirely with gilt framed pictures and photographs. In the middle of
the room were two large red leather comfortable looking settees facing each other, a large timber
writing desk, a large plain dining table and a small coffee table. The only door lead back to the
bedroom and there were no windows. The floor was covered with a rich burgundy carpet and lanterns
hung from the plain white ceiling.

Like the bedroom, the air smelled fresh and comfortably cool. He looked behind him. The door
from the bedroom had gone. There were only shelves like the rest of the rear wall. He looked down
and realised he was now wearing the jeans and tee shirt he had when he arrived at Grimmauld
Place.

A movement across the ceiling caught his eye and Harry thought he saw, for just a moment, a
shadow that looked like a large pair of eyes with half moon spectacles looking down at him. When he
looked again properly there was nothing there except indistinct shadows.

Harry looked back to Jen and asked, "Did you make this room too?"

"Oh no," she replied smiling, "this room was all your making."

"No doors?"

"You won’t have any problem leaving when you’re ready, I expect. Come and sit."

Harry walked over and sat at the end of one of the settees nearest the fire. Harry could see the
pictures clearer now. They were all pictures of the people in his life. A lot of small framed
pictures seemed to be jostling for a position but hanging in pride of place directly over the
fireplace was a large ornately framed painting that was completely blank. Immediately surrounding
the large fame were medium sized frames with moving paintings that appeared to be of all the people
he felt closest to, the Weasleys being prominent. Harry noted that these were not just people:
Hedwig, Fawkes, Crookshanks and Buckbeak were all there too.

Away from the central group of larger paintings hung a single large painting with a black frame.
This was a painting of his parents who were holding each other and were quite still.

Another painting of the same size caught his eye. The frame changed colour constantly, perhaps
reflecting Harry’s own raw emotions. The painting showed Sirius the man sitting with his dog self,
both looking away from him. The frame was moving, almost imperceptibly slowly, towards his parent’s
painting.

Harry felt Jen sit on the other end of the settee and turned back to face her. She was sitting
cross legged facing straight towards him, clearly waiting for his full attention.

"I am the Dyvarow Pensevyges Jentyl Blejen of the Dyagha-Toellwisk Tribe," said Jen
and seeing Harry’s eyebrows raise continued "*Dyvarow Pensevyges Jentyl Blejen,"*
she said slowly, "is old Cornish and literally means Immortal Princess Graceful Flower and
*Dyagha-Toellwisk* means fearless and disguised. Just call me Jen."

"It’s nice to meet you, Jen," Harry said smiling. He was a little relieved because he
knew he would have difficulty remembering her full name. "Are you really an immortal
princess?"

"We *do* live a long time, Harry, but no we are not truly immortal. And no, I’m not a
princess. It’s just a name," Jen finished looking away with a slight blush that made Harry
wonder if she was telling him the truth.

"You, well actually, *we* appear to be in a coma, Harry. What you see, hear and feel
around you is just a representation. I think your mind needed something real to hang onto, to make
sense of things, while you recover."

"I’m imagining all this, and you?"

"You’re imagining all this," Jen said smiling and extending her arms out, "but
I’m not imaginary. What do you remember of our little encounter?"

Harry thought back and then suddenly remembered.

"You? You attacked me! You are that acromantula that attacked me!" Harry said
angrily.

"I’m not an acromantula, but I *did* attack you. You surprised me and I attacked out
of instinct, I suppose. I’m sorry, Harry," and before Harry could respond Jen leapt from the
settee and yelled, "Argh! SORRY? Me? How weird is that? WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?"

Harry waited a moment for Jen to calm down before asking, "Er, okay you’re sorry. Why is
that weird?"

Jen was pacing the room now, quite distracted, just as he had seen Hermione do on countless
occasions. She suddenly stopped and looked at Harry with a rather cold expression.

Harry felt a little unnerved to see Hermione look at him like that.

"Harry, I am a Kefsen not an acromantula. We are
predators. I hunt, kill and consume any living thing. I am ferocious. I fear no creature. I show no
mercy. I do not apologise! I do not say sorry!" Jen announced regally, advancing slowly on
Harry.

"I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of a Kefsen before. So what happened then?" he
asked.

"Well," Jen said composing herself and brushing back Hermione’s long bushy hair,
"as I said I’m not an arachnid. I only took that shape because they are the only other living
creatures I’ve had any contact with for a while."

"How long were you locked in that room?" asked Harry, almost afraid to hear the
answer.

"I don’t know. Many years I think. I almost got out once, several years ago, but I was
caught and the wards that imprisoned me were increased. I’ve been so lonely," Jen said
sadly.

Harry was horrified to think that any creature could be treated so cruelly.

"You can change shape?" Harry said quickly as Jen was clearly upset at being reminded
of the time she spent alone.

"I could, but I was very weak when you found me. I’ve gradually forgotten the other forms I
used to enjoy taking. It’s much easier with a living animal to copy from."

"So are you like a boggart?"

"A BOGGART?! How dare you! A boggart is a miserable creature that uses its crude shape
shifting abilities purely as a defensive mechanism," Jen said indignantly.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!" said Harry quickly.

"Well," Jen said a little coyly, "actually we *are* distantly related and
actually my recent existence has been as miserable as a boggart." She gave a small embarrassed
smile.

"I attacked you simply because I thought you were one of my captors. I wanted revenge. I
think that is what kept me alive all these years."

Harry nodded in understanding.

"When I attacked you, I read your mind. I was looking for a way to defeat you. I don’t look
for fears like a boggart. Fears can be overcome. Fears are fine for a boggart because all it wants
is for you to run away. As I wanted to kill, I needed something more," continued Jen, and
Harry thought how strange it was to her such words in Hermione’s voice.

"Of course, I found your weakness, didn’t I? Do you remember?"

Harry nodded slowly as he recalled the moment the figure appeared.

"I managed to change form, weak as I was, and started to attack you. Then something strange
happened. You attacked me back!"

"Me? How?" asked Harry in surprise.

"No idea. It was something, kind of an energy, from within you. I suspect," pondered
Jen "that it was an autonomic defence. Strange."

"What’s strange?"

"Well, you have no memory of learning how do defend yourself like that, at least no memory
that I could find. I think that either a charm was placed on you to defend you or …"

"Or what?" he prompted.

"Well," continued Jen, "when I looked at you the moment before I attacked,
looking at your soul I suppose, I saw something. I’ve never seen it in anyone else, but it was like
you had a shadow. Like another soul, but that can’t be right, can it? I also got the impression it
was constricted by something. Even so, it still managed to defend you."

"How could I be constricted?" asked Harry intrigued and he thought how Jen appeared to
have more in common with Hermione than just her identical looks.

"No idea, but it is rather useful. If you or your shadow could retaliate automatically very
time you got emotional, how many innocent casualties would there have been?"

"Fair point," conceded Harry. "So have you been through all my
memories?"

"Oh no, I just sort of dipped in, you know. Do you remember the form I took when I
changed?"

"Let’s not talk about that right now," Harry said defensively.

"Okay. But I think we do need to discuss what we are going to do about your
memories."

"What’s wrong with my memories?"

"Well they are a bit disorganised aren’t they? Honestly, I’m surprised you can remember
anything! We should make time to do some revision too! You know you could have done much better in
your History of Magic OWL and I think we should get ready in case you need to do a re-sit,"
Jen said quickly, and Harry was then positive it wasn’t just Hermione’s appearance that she had
adopted.

"Revision?" Harry asked incredulously. "I am on my holidays, you know? Besides, I
might just decide to stay in a coma. It’s not like I’ve got much to wake up for is it?"

"But you wouldn’t miss the start of term, Harry!"

Harry smiled at her shocked expression. He thought that was a very Hermione thing to say.

"Besides," Jen begun as she looked up to the large painting over the fireplace. Harry
followed her gaze and was not too surprised to see a familiar figure amble into the frame and beam
down at him. "You have no secrets from me now."

"Come on you," Jen said going over to the bookshelves which had a haphazard assortment
of files and box folders. "Let’s make a start. While we’re sorting these out you can talk to
me about Sirius. You’ll soon feel better, I promise."



5. Awake
--------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 5: Awake**

Harry woke with a splitting headache. With a Herculean effort he kicked off his bedclothes.
Every muscle in his body ached.

Harry pulled his legs out and propped himself on the edge of the bed. He stood, wobbled, and
promptly sat down again.

Squinting, he reached out and grabbed his glasses from the side table. Putting them on he
noticed the get-well cards. He was surprised how many there were and spent a few moments reading
them, feeling touched at the messages. He spent quite a while pondering Hermione’s card. It was one
of the larger cards but even so, almost every blank area on the inside and the entire back of the
card was covered with her neat, small handwriting. He decided he would read this properly
later.

Harry took a couple of deep breaths and thought, "*Okay,* *let’s try
again*."

He gathered his thoughts and with a great effort he rose and staggered over to the window. Quite
exhausted but non-the-less very pleased with himself, Harry threw open the curtains. He was
immediately blinded by the bright light that streamed into the room.

Harry heard agitated clicking noises and turned back just in time to see golden brown arachnid
legs disappear under the bedstead. Realising his error, Harry rapidly closed the curtains again.
The darkness felt much more comfortable for his eyes too.

"Er, sorry about that," Harry said sheepishly. Looking around the room Harry realised
he was in one of the bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. Harry tensed as he thought of the effort that
would be needed to get back to the bed. After a moment he ventured back and was surprised to find
his muscles loosen and his headache gradually lift.

Reaching the bed he knelt and lifted the bedclothes. Peering under he found Jen.

"Can I get you anything to eat? I think I’ll go down to the kitchen to get something,"
said Harry and noticing that she was still trembling he continued, "Sorry about the curtains.
I didn’t think. Are you okay?"

Jen extended a leg and gently rested a foot on the top of Harry’s hand. She immediately morphed
into Hermione.

"That was a bit too bright for me," said Jen, breathing heavily.

Harry had become used to this transformation and no longer reacted at all when Jen changed form.
Jen had only taken two forms so far. Apparently Jen regarded Harry’s recollections of other female
forms unsuitable and even "implausible". He hadn’t pursued the matter.

"I’m feeling a little weak. I think I’ll try to get some sleep," said Jen and removing
her hand she changed back to her preferred arachnid form.

Harry gently replaced the bedclothes to block the light, and crossed the room to the door.
Taking care not to make a noise so as to disturb Jen he opened the door, went through and closed it
again gently.

Harry half turned away and then thinking that someone might disturb Jen, he locked the door and
took the key. Harry smiled to himself as he realised he was more concerned for Jen’s wellbeing than
for someone else encountering Jen’s monstrous form. He had become rather fond of Jen.

As he descended the stairs, he felt a small stab of pain in his side, but it was gone as soon as
it came.

*

Entering the kitchen, Harry discovered it was early morning. The range was still warm and Harry
realised that he must have company.

Harry got the kitchen fire going and set about making himself tea and breakfast.

Three-quarters of an hour later, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table draining his second cup
of tea and was pondering whether to have another cup before or after he went back upstairs to wash
and change.

Harry realised he was feeling much better now. Having Jen for company, even inside his own head,
had been good for Harry. He still felt the loss and the guilt, but his feelings were much less raw.
Harry found he had spoken more freely about Sirius than ever before. There was no point not to,
since Jen had access to all his memories anyway.

Harry’s mind wandered back to the room with his memories.

Jen had begun to share part of her history with Harry too. Quite a lot of it seemed to be a gory
catalogue of her victims but Jen enjoyed telling of her adventures and Harry enjoyed how happy she
seemed remembering a time before Grimmauld Place. Jen did not go into detail about how she came to
be trapped inside Grimmauld Place and as Harry could tell this was a sensitive issue he avoided
asking too many questions.

The boxes and files on the shelves were, Harry had to admit, not very organised at all.

They had spent a long time sorting through his memories. They would pull down the cardboard box
files from the shelf one at a time. None of the files were labelled or dated but usually as soon as
Harry held the box, long forgotten memories would flood back. They both seemed to share the
experience.

Some boxes, usually the old and tatty looking ones, had to be opened before Harry would remember
anything. Each contained some small memento that jogged Harry’s memory when he saw it or sometimes
after he had touched it. Some boxes had emitted sounds, smells or tastes as they were opened. Some
pleasant, others not. The contents of a few boxes caused Harry deep embarrassment, and Jen would
tease him and pretend to grab the box away from him. These boxes, Harry insisted, had to go on a
high shelf, out of reach.

A few boxes Harry became very wary of and found he could not comfortably go near them. Jen knew
these would include some of Harry’s worst memories and had diplomatically decided that they were
fine left where they were.

They found one group of shiny black new looking boxes, right up on the top shelf. These refused
to be moved, so Harry had climbed up to take a closer look. Unlike the others, these boxes appeared
to be completely sealed shut. All the other boxes had been open. When Harry touched them they were
inert. No memories came. Nothing. Jen had wondered if it was a memory charm but had decided that it
was more likely to be something he had repressed and had tried to forget.

Behind some shelves on one wall, Harry had found what looked like a door. It was black and there
was no sign of a lock or handle. For some reason, Jen was very afraid of the door or whatever was
behind it. She had begged him not to try and open it.

Harry’s only disappointment was not finding any memories of his mother and father. Jen reasoned
that he may have been too young to remember. Harry had agreed, but had still hoped to remember
something.

By the time they had finished, the shelves looked much more organised. Harry didn’t really
believe any of this would do any good, after all, none of it was real.

The last thing he remembered was sitting in front of the fire - each with a box file, Jen firing
History of Magic questions at him and Harry badly re-telling some of Ron’s old jokes. Harry had
been surprised how many dates and facts he thought he got right. *Or was he just remembering the
wrong answers?*

Harry was disturbed from his reverie by Remus Lupin shuffling into the kitchen, yawning and
stretching.

"Good morning," said Harry smiling, "cup of tea?"

Lupin stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes suddenly wide awake in shock and staring at Harry who
was getting up from the table to make the tea.

"H... Harry?" he managed to stutter, clearly surprised to see Harry up and finally
saying, "Morning. Er, how do you feel?"

"Much better thanks," replied Harry, his back turned while he re-filled the large
teapot with boiling water. Turning back to Lupin he asked, "How are you?"

*

Harry and Lupin sat at the kitchen table and talked for a long time. It turned out that his
holiday was almost at an end and he would be going back to school tomorrow, if he was fit enough.
As he’d been ill he would travel by flue powder directly to the Gryffindor common room.

Lupin asked if Harry’s "new friend" was awake too. Harry told Lupin what had happened
and asked if he or Sirius had known she was here all this time. Lupin had no idea and was sure that
Sirius hadn’t either. Sirius had found the door to the corridor but had not investigated
further.

Lupin told Harry that his version of events pretty much matched Albus Dumbledore’s theory of
what happened. It had been Dumbledore who had instructed that the acromantula be placed in the same
bedroom after he had established that both of them were in the same coma.

Lupin had not seen any of the strange lights seen by Harry by the time he had arrived. Lupin was
surprised to hear Harry’s description of the energy that appeared to save him but did not speculate
where it came from. Harry didn’t mention the shadow Jen had seen.

Harry asked if they had heard about Harold from Privet Drive. Lupin’s face grew serious.

"We have investigated Harold Smith’s death thoroughly and as far as we can tell he died
from natural causes."

Harry nodded silently.

"We didn’t find out about him until your Aunt told us. She was very worried for you. We
should have told her about Sirius and we should have given her a means to contact us sooner. I’m
sorry, Harry. We just didn’t think anything like this would happen. We thought we were helping by
keeping our distance. Mrs. Figg kept intercepting your Aunt whenever she saw her but she didn’t say
anything to her."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "How did she contact you?"

"Well, she first she tried writing to Hermione. She had written a return address on the
Muggle letters she posted to you. Then she got a telephone number and tried calling. She left lots
of messages on their answering machine but unfortunately the Grangers were away. Eventually she
managed to persuade Hedwig to take a message."

"Wow!" Harry said quietly. "That must have taken some effort. She won’t go near
Hedwig usually and she wouldn’t have known where to send the message. Who did she send it
to?"

"Dumbledore, thankfully."

As they spoke Harry had a sudden mild panic attack. It must have shown on his face because Lupin
asked, "What is it, Harry?"

"I need to get to Diagon Alley!"

"No, don’t worry about your school supplies. I’m sure the Headmaster will understand if you
start term without them, given the circumstances."

"Yes. No! It’s not that. Hermione’s birthday is in a few days time! I haven’t even thought
what to get her."

"She will understand."

*That’s not the point*, Harry thought.

Lupin smiled gently. "I’ll ask Dumbledore if I can take you to Diagon Alley next weekend.
We can go by flue unless I can persuade him to give us a Portkey."

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling a little relieved.

"Oh, and Happy Birthday yourself, by the way."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." He had completely forgotten his birthday.

"Ron insisted that your birthday should be rescheduled. I suspect your friends will want to
celebrate when you get back to Hogwarts."



6. Letters
----------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 6: Letters**

After lunch Harry looked in on Jen and found her sleeping soundly. He was also very tired but
was determined to complete some tasks that he had promised himself he would do. Harry went down to
the living room, sat at Sirius’ antique writing chest, and begun to write.

His first letter was to Professor Dumbledore and in it Harry apologised for the things he said
and did in the Headmaster’s office. He wrote quickly knowing exactly what he wanted to say until
the point where he considered whether he should tell Dumbledore the things he was still annoyed
about. He decided not to put these in a letter and instead wrote that he would also like to
apologise in person when he saw the Headmaster. Perhaps then would be the time to talk to
Dumbledore.

When he had finished the letter, Harry reflected on his feelings about Dumbledore at that
moment. He had been so angry before. Now, that anger had definitely subsided, but was not gone
entirely. He knew the Headmaster cared about him and believed he had Harry’s best interests at
heart. In place of his anger, Harry felt a calmness and a new resolve. He had finally accepted the
prophecy. Perhaps he would die at the hands of Voldemort, but he had vowed he would finish
Voldemort for good this time before than happened. Ever since Harry had witnessed Dumbledore duel
with Voldemort he knew he was totally ill prepared. Harry was determined to ask Dumbledore for more
training. He wanted to learn to fight. Time would be short. Voldemort would be stupid not to try
and finish him off before he finished his training. This gave him one or two years at most and many
more would die before Voldemort could finally be stopped. Harry wanted to be honest with the
Headmaster, he would have to tell him somehow the truth that he no longer entirely trusted
Dumbledore’s judgement.

He wondered for a moment if he should tell Dumbledore about the shadow Jen had seen and what she
feared it was. What if Dumbledore said she was right? Harry didn’t want to think about that.

His use of an unforgivable curse at the Department of Mysteries had given Harry much concern. He
was worried that it had not been effective at all by Death Eater standards. That had to change,
except that in the back of his mind Harry wondered if he would ever be capable of such things.
Harry knew Dumbledore would resist teaching him offensive and dark magic. Perhaps Dumbledore could
be persuaded or suggest a different strategy.

Harry’s second letter was to Mrs. Longbottom. Harry told Neville’s grandmother, with some
careful wording in case Hermione’s jinx was still active, how Neville had practised and achieved
enormous improvements in their Defence Against the Dart Arts "extra-curricular studies"
and had insisted on not allowing Harry to go alone to the Department of Mysteries. Harry described
the fight that lead to Neville’s wand being broken and asked that she hold himself, not Neville,
responsible. Harry finished describing, as best he could, the bravery and courage that Neville and
the others had shown in London. He was sure Neville would be too modest and wanted Mrs. Longbottom
to share in Harry’s pride.

Harry thought about whether or not he should also write to the Grangers, Mr Lovegood and Mr
& Mrs Weasley. He rather thought that Hermione might not want Mr & Mrs Granger to know too
much about the danger he put their daughter in and assumed that Luna’s father would feel the same.
Harry decided in the end to wait until he saw Hermione, Luna, Ron and Ginny and he would write only
if they said it would be okay.

He sat quietly for a while and considered his friends and the DA. He decided he would tell, in
confidence, all five about the prophecy. They would hear the prophecy if they wished to and if they
swore not to reveal it to anyone and never to write it down. He would trust them. At first Harry
considered only telling Hermione and Ron, but in the end he decided they would be also targeted now
and had the right to know.

Harry had some misgivings though. He trusted Hermione, Ginny and Luna. Neville could be
indiscreet sometimes. He was most concerned about Ron though, who had before blurted out things
without thinking and said things in anger. He was sure none of them would deliberately betray the
secret, but what would be the consequences of an accidental disclosure?

And what of the DA? Would the members who remained at school want to continue? Harry felt that
the wider group would probably not want to carry on. After all, with Umbridge gone they might have
a decent teacher and actually learn defensive magic in the classroom. He would invite Hermione,
Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna to continue though. They all needed better defensive skills.

Harry picked up his quill and began to write his third letter. It was to Aunt Petunia. He
thanked her for the kindness and concern she had shown him, as well as her persistence in getting
him help. Telling her about the loss of his godfather, he went on to explain why Harold’s passing
had affected him so deeply. He assured her that he was feeling much better now and told her that
she had helped him recover much sooner than he otherwise would have. Harry now recognised and found
he genuinely appreciated Aunt Petunia’s attempts to help. For the first time in Harry’s memory she
had seen past her feelings and prejudices to see his pain. She cared.

Hedwig joined Harry at the writing desk and he spent a few minutes stroking her and telling her
how much he had missed her.

Yawning widely and feeling his tiredness return, Harry picked up his three letters. Hedwig
expectantly held out one leg.

"No Hedwig, sorry. I’m going to give these to Lupin and ask him to make sure they stay
secure."

Hedwig clicked her beak indignantly and Harry explained, "I know the letters would be safe
with you but I couldn’t bear it if someone tried to intercept them and you got hurt again. These
letters are not in code, anyone could understand them."

Harry went down to the kitchen and handed the unsealed letters to Lupin. Telling Lupin he was
welcome to read them, Harry explained that he wanted the Headmaster to get his letter before he got
back to school, if it was at all possible.

*

The next day Harry got up early to spend as much time as possible with Jen. After some
persuasion, Harry managed to get Jen downstairs so he could introduce Lupin. He wanted to make sure
Jen felt comfortable around the house and was determined that she should not hide herself away.
Harry knew that Jen had been changed by their shared experience.

Together Harry and Lupin gave Jen repeated assurances that she would be a welcome addition to
the household, would be free to roam the house in any form and that members of the Order would
visit her so she would not be lonely.

As soon as Lupin left the living room, Jen transformed into her Hermione form. She bravely tried
to hide the sadness in her face but Harry felt terrible that he was leaving her so soon.

Harry finally dragged his trunk down and into the kitchen where the fire was burning with
dancing yellow flames.

"You need to go now Harry," said Lupin hurriedly, "Madam Pomfrey was expecting
you half an hour ago!"

Harry groaned and looked around to say goodbye to Jen. She was nowhere to be seen. Ignoring
Lupin’s protests, Harry left the kitchen and ran up the stairs. In the entrance lobby Harry shouted
"Jen! I’m leaving now!"

Harry listened for a reply. Nothing. Feeling a little disappointed, Harry shouted, "I’ll
see you soon. Take care of yourself!"

Hearing Lupin’s call from down in the basement, Harry turned and went back down the stairs.

"Leave your trunk. I will follow with it later," said Lupin looking distracted and
searching through his pockets for something.

*

Harry fell out of fireplace into the Gryffindor common room and collapsed in a heap on the
floor. As his journey through the flue had progressed, Harry had felt a painful tearing from within
his chest.

Harry vaguely registered Madam Pomfrey’s exasperated, "What is it this time?" before
he lost consciousness.



7. A Gryffindor Guest
---------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 7: A Gryffindor Guest**

Harry woke to find himself lying on his back on the common room floor with Madam Pomfrey fussing
over him. Over her shoulder, Harry could see Professor McGonagall looking at him with a concerned
look on her face. He looked over and saw Lupin coming back down from the boys’ dormitories. Lupin
must have taken his trunk upstairs.

Harry lifted himself up and brushed his hair back with his hand. He found his face wet with cold
sweat.

"What happened, Potter?"

"I don’t know. As soon as I entered the flue I felt …" Harry struggled to find the
words. "I don’t know, really, like something was being torn away from me."

Harry looked up. "The pain’s gone. I’m feeling much better now!" he said quickly
before Madam Pomfrey could utter *Hospital Wing* as he knew she was about to. It was true
though; Harry was recovering quickly.

At that moment the Portrait hole opened and Gryffindor students flooded in.

*The feast must be over*, thought Harry as Lupin guided him to a seat. Harry sat with his
hand over his eyes trying to compose himself and block out the chattering noise that was now
filling the common room. Harry realised he must have been unconscious for some time.

Gradually the common room became quieter as people moved through, probably thinking of nothing
but their beds just as Harry usually did after the welcoming feast.

*You need to get a grip if you’re not going to be put in the Hospital Wing tonight* he
thought.

"Well, you appear to be okay now," said Lupin. "I should think you’d get a better
night’s rest here than in the Hospital Wing."

Harry opened his eyes as a smiling Lupin continued, "Have a good term, Harry. Write if you
need anything." Lupin squeezed Harry’s shoulder and spoke to Professor McGonagall, "I’ll
have time to speak to the Headmaster but then I’ll need to be off." Professor McGonagall
nodded to him as he turned and left. Madam Pomfrey, looking daggers at Lupin, looked as though she
would like to give the Headmaster a few well chosen words as well, and followed.

Harry closed is eyes again and a moment later vaguely registered shouts coming from the boys
dormitories.

"What on earth?" said McGonagall and Harry could hear her hurry up the stairs.

"Who is making this racket?" everyone could hear clearly down in the common room.
Everyone was listening now and Harry was very glad that she was not shouting at him.

For a moment there was a pause followed by more shouts and this time bangs and blasts.

Harry drew his head up suddenly opening his eyes. He recognised the shouts that time. It sounded
like Ron, Dean and Seamus. The shouting was coming from their dormitory.

Harry jumped up and ran up the stairs, passing Hermione who was reassuring a huddle of
frightened looking First years. Harry pushed open the heavy dormitory door and rushed in.

*

Professor McGonagall, Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville were all standing wands held out and firing
*Reducto* and stunner curses around the far side of the room. Three of the beds were in
splinters and bedding was smouldering. Feathers filled the air like a snowstorm.

Through the chaos Harry saw the reason for the commotion. Dodging the spells with extraordinary
agility was Jen, running around the floor, up the walls and across the ceiling. She looked smaller
than usual and in her arachnid form. She was clearly terrified.

"Stop! STOP!" yelled Harry and then as they continued to reign spells over the room he
shouted, "*Expelliarmus*!"

All four wands flew out of their hands and Harry caught them.

"Potter! What do you think you are doing?!" shouted Professor McGonagall who had
retained her wand.

As Jen reared up, now an enormous size, Harry stepped forward and stood in front of McGonagall.
The other four, having lost their wands, had hurriedly moved towards the door.

"That is *enough!*" spoke Harry loudly and clearly. "Just calm
down."

Harry turned to the others as Jen cowered back down on the floor.

"I’m sorry," said Harry calmly. "She’s from Sirius’ house. I think she must have
stowed away in my trunk."

Harry noticed Ron’s look of horror and said, "It’s okay. Really. Look, if you’ll give me a
moment to have a word with her in private, I’ll ask her down to the common room and introduce you
properly."

McGonagall, seeing Harry unconcerned for his own safety, appeared to regain her composure.
"Very well, if you’re sure. We’ll wait downstairs for you." Taking the wands Harry handed
out to her, she then turned and swept everyone else out of the room before closing the door.

Harry turned to face Jen who was now cowering on the floor. Harry knelt down beside her and
asked gently, "Are you okay?"

Hermione’s form suddenly appeared. She was trembling with fear. Tears welled in her eyes and
cascaded down her face as she said, "I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to come but as soon as you went
through the flue I felt a terrible pain. It was tearing me apart. I’m sure it was the distance
between us or something. Anyway I made room in your trunk and jumped in before Remus came. Please
don’t be mad at me."

She looked up hopefully into Harry’s eyes. Harry smiled and wiped the tears from her face.

"I’m not mad at you, just a little surprised. I felt it too. If you’re going to stay, we’ll
need to agree a couple of things first."

"What like?" Jen asked rather too innocently.

"I want you to promise," and Harry counted points off on his fingers. "One, that
you won’t disclose to anyone any of my memories or my knowledge. You know how important that
is."

"Of course I wouldn’t! Okay, I promise."

"Two. That you won’t disclose any of my thoughts or feelings to anyone, not even to try and
help me."

"Well, okay."

"Three. That you will not take Hermione’s appearance. You *know* -"

"No! I can’t promise that. This is the only form I can take on my own and be able to speak.
How about I only take this form when we’re alone? Oh, *come on! You know how much* …"

"Well, alright," Harry conceded as he looked at her anguished expression.
"Four."

"Is this a long list?" she asked and Harry knew she was feeling better.

"Four. You will not attack anyone. Anyone or any living thing. Promise?"

"Well, I promise not to hurt anyone unless I’m provoked. So is that it? I thought you’d
want to know what I dumped out of your trunk to make room! Come on, I want to be
introduced!"

Jen’s distraction worked as she intended and Harry, wondering just what she had dumped, did not
speak aloud the other restrictions he had considered.

"My card? You didn’t leave Hermione’s card did you?"

"As if I’d dare!" she replied with a grin. "No, just some old broom," she
lied.



8. Introductions
----------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 8: Introductions**

A little while later Harry opened the dormitory door and walked down the steps to the common
room, pausing to allow the increasingly nervous arachnid to keep up.

Jen exited the dormitory door at the corner of the jamb and the head of the frame and walked
along the curved walls, occasionally crossing the ceiling. She appeared to grow in size as she
went. Harry supposed that as a magical creature, and a shape shifting one at that, she was not too
concerned about the effects of gravity.

They exited the door into the common room and Harry walked down the steps and over to the middle
of the common room.

Slowly and gracefully, Jen walked one entire perimeter high up over the curved common room walls
and everyone in the common room followed her progress in mesmerised silence. It looked like the
whole of Gryffindor had come back down to witness this spectacle.

Harry looked over towards Hermione and he gave her an assuring smile as their eyes met.
Hermione, standing with her wand in hand, looked away warily from him towards Jen. Harry knew that
Hermione was maintaining a calm reassuring stance for the benefit of the First Years. He wished
some of the others would do the same.

Jen finally came to rest on a wall directly behind Harry, now fully ten feet toe to toe. She
remained perfectly still and appeared to glow a beautiful golden brown in the lamplight.

As Harry spoke, most people continued to watch Jen.

“I would like to introduce Dyvarow Pensevyges Jentyl Blejen of the Dyagha-Toellwisk Tribe.”
Harry paused, rather pleased with himself that he had managed to pronounce her name correctly. He
finally knew it by heart, Jen having made him practice many times.

“Call her Jen.

“She is a Kefsen, and she can adopt the shape many living forms. She is *not* an
acromantula or any form of spider. Jen has been alone for many years and with only spiders for
company she has become accustomed to this form.

“Jen is a Princess of her people, a magical creature and a very good friend. Jen is currently
recovering from,” he paused, “an illness. I think some rest and good company will help her recover.
With your permission I would like her to remain as a guest here in Gryffindor Tower.”

At this a wave of unease went through the common room. Jen lightly moved down from the wall and
crossed the floor to gasps from some as others hurried to get out of her way. Without hesitation,
Jen went straight over to Parvati Patel and held up a long hairy foreleg.

“It’s okay Parvati, just let her touch your hand.”

With some trepidation, Parvati bravely held out her hand and Jen touched it gently. Instantly
Jen morphed into an identically dressed second twin and smiling widely said, “I love your
hair!”

*Clever* thought Harry.

Jen smiled nervously looking around the room. “I’m a little weak at the moment, so I can only
hold two forms for any length of time. One is the spider form you’ve just seen and, well, Harry
asked me not to change into -”

“- Because she’s a bit scary in that form,” interrupted Harry, causing a few people to give
short nervous laughs.

“Scarier than a giant spider? What …?”

Harry continued, “Jen has promised not to attack anyone …” Harry paused and looked meaningfully
back at Jen and before continuing, “and that includes pets, house elves, teachers and any other
living creature …”

Harry hesitated a moment, wondering whether those provisos were sufficient, “… while she is
here. Be warned however. She is a deadly magical creature who also happens to be a hopeless
romantic, likes fashion, loves revising history and listening to really, really bad jokes.”

Jen blushed and smiled as she looked down at the floor.

“It’s the *deadly* part you need to remember. Surprise her and she will react. Provoke her
and she may attack out of instinct. Give her space and show her respect and you’ll be fine,”
finished Harry. It would do no harm for everyone to believe that Jen could be a fearsome as she
looked.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. “Well, I see no reason why the Headmaster would object
to Jen staying providing she remains within Gryffindor Tower for the time being. I suggest you take
a vote.” And with that she made her exit through the portrait hole. As he watched her leave Harry
wondered why she had just accepted his assurances that Jen was safe to have around. Had Dumbledore
known?

“Er, show of hands?” Harry started to say weakly, suddenly less confident. *Why would they
want Jen to stay?*

At the exact same time Parvati shouted out loud and clear, “Hands up all those who want Jen to
stay!” and beaming at Jen she raised her hand. Almost everyone raised their hands to Harry’s
relief. Even Ron, whose colour had turned a little less green since Jen had changed form.

There was a short cheer and Parvati had to shout, “Welcome to Gryffindor!” to make herself
heard. Several people moved forward to say hello now that her form was less intimidating.

“Would it be okay if I slept in the girl’s dormitories?” asked Jen, “Harry’s friends didn’t seem
too keen on sharing!”

“Of course you can!” said Lavender as they ushered her up the stairs.

Harry just caught Jen saying, “It’s just that I can look a bit of a sight in the mornings,” as
the door closed and he smiled to himself.

Harry turned and faced Ron and Hermione.

Ron hadn’t quite regained his composure and his gaze was fixed on the closed door that lead up
to the girl’s dormitories.

Hermione asked, “Harry, are you okay? We heard you were in some sort of coma but they wouldn’t
let us visit. What happened?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for the get-well cards. I’m still a bit weak and I had a bit of a relapse when
I arrived but I’m fine, really,” said Harry seeing Hermione’s concerned expression.

“Where did you meet her?”

“Sirius’,” replied Harry in an undertone. Ron gulped audibly and Harry could see Ron imagining
how they could have encountered Jen while they were cleaning Grimmauld Place last year.

“Did she have anything to do with your condition?”

“Well yes, sort of,” answered Harry. “Look, I really need to explain this properly but it’s late
and I think Ron needs to turn in”

“Oh, okay,” said Hermione looking at Ron. “It might be best. Is there much damage upstairs?”

*

The next morning began eventfully for Jen. Harry, hearing a commotion down in the common room,
had rushed down the stairs from their dormitory. Harry found a tearful Lavender Brown being
consoled by a concerned, identically dressed Lavender Brown. Harry guessed immediately what had
happened. Lavender had woken to find Jen in her favoured spider form and had run out in
hysterics.

Several people had come down to see what the noise was about and Harry was pleased to see that
many were visibly impressed by the kindness and understanding Jen showed to Lavender.

For the next few days Jen could usually be found in her arachnid form, high up level with the
cornice in the common room from which she would survey the students coming and going. Still rather
nervous in the presence of others, Jen would always come down to greet Harry as he passed through
the common room and Harry would make sure that he was last to leave their dormitory in the morning
so Jen could join him for a chat.

Gradually, girls would wait for Jen so she could come down, assume a human form, and wish Harry
good morning properly. It was not long before Jen was conversing a little with more and more
students.

Harry told Ron and Hermione almost everything about his encounter with Jen but he had not said
anything about the time during their coma and nothing about the form Jen had taken.

Harry thought Hermione realised that Harry was holding something back that was bothering him,
but unusually she did not push him on this.

*

During the lunch break, Harry arranged to meet with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna. When
they had all arrived, Harry suggested they walk outside to ensure some privacy.

As they walked down the main steps outside, Neville approached Harry.

“Harry, thanks for the letter you sent Gran. She sent me an owl this morning.”

“I just wanted her to know what happened, Neville. Sorry if it was a bit late coming” said
Harry.

“Actually, she wasn’t that bad. Even when she found out I’d broken Dad’s old wand.”

When they reached the bottom of the steps and finding they were away from earshot, the group
formed a loose circle.

“It’s the Department of Mysteries that I wanted to speak to you about. When I went back to the
Dursleys’, I tried to write. I couldn’t just then, what with Sirius and everything.”

Harry drew a deep breath as the others nodded gently in understanding.

“Anyway, when I woke up I wrote to Dumbledore and Neville’s Gran. I was going to write to all
your parents but I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to tell them. I wrote to your Gran, Neville,
because I didn’t think you’d tell her everything.”

“Well, I didn’t have the chance *not* to tell her,” Neville said with small smile, “I think
someone must have told her because she already knew everything!”

“That was me, Neville,” said Ginny with a warm smile.

“And me,” added Hermione, “I thought she should know.”

“I was going to,” said Ron laughing, “but I was afraid Hermione’s hex would kick in!”

“So,” asked Harry, “can I write to your parents?”

“No way!” said Ron emphatically. “Look Harry, Dad knows everything and Mum went spare when she
found out the little she knows. It’d just upset her again.”

Ginny nodded in agreement.

“Well, if you’re sure. Luna, can I write to your Dad?”

“Well, Dad’s got this conspiracy theory about the whole thing. I tried to tell him what really
happened but he’s quite convinced,” said Luna in her usual dreamy voice. “If you want to write
though, you might want to make sure you say it’s not for publication,” she added as an
afterthought.

“Thanks, Luna. I will. Hermione?”

Hermione said nothing.

“I did wonder how they might react if they knew how much danger I put you in.”

“I’m not sure, Harry. I didn’t really tell them anything. I’d like to think about it, if that’s
okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” said Harry warmly. “Tell you what, I’ll write the letters and you can
each read them before Hedwig takes them. I won’t send anything you haven’t approved. How would that
be?”

Hermione nodded but Luna was staring off into space at that moment.

“Good. Now, are we going to carry on with the DA? I think we, us six I mean, need to get a lot
better at Defence Against the Dark Arts.”



9. Happy Birthday
-----------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 9: Happy Birthday**

Harry had to wait a few days before seeing Dumbledore, who had not been present in the Great
Hall for meals since the Welcoming Feast, which Harry had missed.

He hadn’t liked to go to the Headmaster’s office uninvited. The last time he’d been in there the
floor had been strewn with the things he’d thrown and broken.

Harry went down to breakfast early on Thursday in the hope of seeing Dumbledore. He had done the
same thing every morning that week. Today however, he was in luck. Dumbledore was just leaving the
Hall doors when Harry arrived at the entrance lobby.

“Excuse me, Professor. May I have a word?” Harry asked quietly.

“Of course, Harry,” said Dumbledore smiling. “It’s such a nice day, will you join he for a short
walk outside?”

“Okay, thanks,” replied Harry and they strolled outside into the bright morning sunshine. Now
that he had the chance to talk to the Headmaster, Harry found himself wondering where to begin.
Dumbledore, however, spoke first.

“I’m glad to see you’re up and about again. How’s your guest?”

Harry smiled and said, “Jen’s fine. She’s still very nervous and shy, though. It may take a
while for her to settle in. I’m sure she would like to meet you.”

“I’d like to thank you for your letter, Harry. That was very thoughtful.”

“I am sorry for the way I behaved. I, … I should never have said …” Harry began but stopped when
Dumbledore raised his hand and gently shook his head.

“There are a couple of things I’d like to ask that I couldn’t put in the letter.”

“Go on.”

“Would it be okay if we carried on with the DA? I don’t know if any the other Houses are still
interested but most of the Gryffindors want to carry on. Last year Hermione insisted we include
anyone who asked and I think it would be good to continue on that basis.”

“Of course you may. The more people are prepared for what is to come, the better. I am also
going to ask some of the staff to offer additional defensive classes,” Dumbledore said looking over
towards the lake.

“Hermione keeps saying we should include the Slytherins. I’m sure not every Slytherin is going
to join Voldemort. I just don’t like the idea of training Voldemort supporters and letting them
know first hand our strengths and weaknesses,” admitted Harry.

“Hermione is correct, in my view,” said Dumbledore. “The more inclusive you can be, the better.
This may be an ideal opportunity to show there is another way other than the Dark Side. Still, it
may be prudent to hold separate more advanced lessons for more *trusted* individuals.”

“Yes. I was going to make the six of us that went to the Department of Mysteries do additional
training anyway.”

“Make?” asked Dumbledore.

“They all made real improvements in the DA last year but they have to get a lot better and
quickly. *We* need to get better. So yes, I am going to *make* them learn. They’ve agreed
already actually, but they don’t really know what they’ve agreed to yet.”

Dumbledore smiled and nodded.

“And speaking of trusted individuals. I am thinking about telling them about the prophecy.”

Harry waited for Dumbledore to respond but he said nothing.

“They are targets now. I think they have a right …” Harry began.

“It’s not a question of right. It’s a question of trust,” Dumbledore interrupted darkly.

Harry sighed. “Yes. I’m ashamed to say I’ve been thinking whether or not I can trust them. I’ll
only tell them if they are prepared to accept the consequences.”

“And you’ve been hoping some of them will decline to hear it?”

Harry looked down at his feet and nodded.

“I would recommend that you talk to them individually first. Tell each of them that you do not
intend to tell any of them everything. That way you can be selective about what you tell even if
they decide to hear the prophecy. If you have a slightest doubt about an individual do not tell
them anything. Not yet at least.”

“I’m sure that none of them would disclose anything on purpose, but I do have doubts,” said
Harry and he looked up at Dumbledore. “I don’t know if I’m going to tell Ron or Neville anything at
this stage. If Ron finds out later that I withheld this he’s going to take it badly and there will
be consequences. It will be worse, though, if I actually lie to him.”

“Very well. Is there anything else?”

“Well,” Harry hesitated. “I’d like you to teach me Occlumency. Properly this time. I also want
to learn Legilimency if I can. Most of all, I want to learn to fight and defend myself properly.
Those Death Eaters -”

Dumbledore cut across him. “I will not teach you dark magic, Harry. I cannot stop you from
researching these things by yourself, but please give me your word you will not teach anyone else
such things. Dark magic is not easy to give up. Those that practice it soon forget their human
values.”

“I promise,” replied Harry earnestly, who had expected Dumbledore to refuse outright. At least
he hadn’t made Harry promise not to research on his own.

“I will, however, continue your Occlumency lessons. Legilimency may be a little beyond you at
present but you may try. I will also make arrangements to have you taught you some additional
defence on an individual basis.”

Dumbledore pulled out his large gold pocket watch and studied it before saying, “I did suggest
to Professor McGonagall that, since you won’t have external examinations this year, you might
benefit from a more *relaxed* timetable.”

Harry raised is eyebrows.

“Unfortunately, she disagreed,” Dumbledore continued with a wry smile. “Please don’t cut lessons
unless absolutely unavoidable. I will ask Madam Pince to make the Restricted Section available to
you and Hermione so long as she also promises not to pass on any dark magic she learns to anyone
else. You will have full access without the usual upper year restrictions. Ah, you appear to be
late for Potions. Good-day to you, Harry.”

For a moment Harry considered heading straight for the Library but then he thought of Professor
McGonagall’s disapproval if he cut lessons. Instead he grabbed his bag and went down to Snape’s
potion class in the dungeons, sure he would have detention for being late.

*

At eleven o’clock that evening, Harry finally climbed through the portrait hole. He had finished
his detention with Snape some time ago but had decided to walk off some of his excess anger. *He
was annoyed with himself as much as Snape*. Although he had been determined not to allow Snape
to make him so angry this year, Harry had found himself reacting angrily at yet another insult to
his father. That outburst had earned him another detention too.

*Oh, well*, he thought, *maybe I can keep control of myself at the next
detention*.

Stepping into the common room, Harry was greeted with a cheer. Ron bounded up to him and shouted
above the noise, “At last! Happy Birthday, Harry! Why did that git had to give you detention the
same night we planned this?”

Smiling, Harry looked around the room. He was immediately impressed that such a relatively small
group had made so much noise. All of the Sixth Year Gryffindors, plus Ginny. Jen was present too,
this time looking like Lavender.

Ron dragged him over to a table and pushed a bottle of butterbeer into his hand. On the table
was a small pile of envelopes, a few small wrapped presents and a large empty plate that looked
like it had cake crumbs on it.

They had a good laugh as Harry opened his birthday cards and presents, starting at Ron’s
insistence, with his own.

Finally, much earlier than they would have liked, Harry thanked them again as he bid them
goodnight.

In the quiet of the common room, Harry gathered his cards and presents. Harry paused to look at
Luna’s card and as he did so became aware that Hermione had not yet gone up.

Luna’s card was most unusual. It was small postcard that had a strange moving pattern on one
side. It looked like it should have a ‘right side up’ but he had no idea which it might be. She had
written her message on the back and had managed to get the writing to tumble around as the card was
rotated.

Hermione picked up the scrap wrapping paper, screwed it up, and threw it into the fire.

Harry smiled at her when she turned back to him. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Ron wanted to throw you a big party. I thought you would prefer something smaller.”

“Definitely,” Harry said quietly.

“Well goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight,” he whispered watching Hermione climb the stairs and disappear into the girl’s
dormitories. He thought her face was a little red, but perhaps he had been mistaken.

Harry had begun to feel an awkwardness around Hermione that he was unaccustomed to. He had
convinced himself that, having spent so much time in Jen’s company and with her looking, sounding
and acting just like Hermione, this shouldn’t happen. The thing was, he realised, this was the real
Hermione, not just a memory of her.

He had almost asked her to sit and talk for a while. *Almost*.

Annoyed with himself, he gave a sigh that preceded a great yawn as he too climbed the stairs to
bed. He didn’t see Jen emerge silently from the shadows.



10. Diagon Alley
----------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 10: Diagon Alley**

Harry alone stood in the middle of the Room of Requirement.

“I’m really sorry,” he said to his five friends as they slowly began to pick themselves off the
floor, “but I wanted you to be in no doubt about the improvements we all need to make.”

Harry had invited all five of them to attack him any way they could, all at the same time.

The exchange had lasted only a few seconds, and Harry hadn’t fired first. He hadn’t even needed
to produce a shield.

Harry had expected everyone to be a little rusty, after all like him, they hadn’t performed any
defensive magic for a few weeks. Even so, he was very disappointed.

Harry easily dodged Ron’s stunner and was saved the need to disarm Hermione when she was hit
with Luna’s wayward impediment jinx, mainly because Luna herself had been hit by Ron’s second
stunner.

Of the five of them, only Ginny and Neville gave him any challenge at all.

“Neville, your tactic was sound,” Harry continued as Neville pulled Ginny to her feet again.
“What let you down was your aim. We’ll work on that, but firing three different jinxes in quick
succession was very good, especially so since you co-ordinated very well with Ginny.”

Neville smiled and nodded.

“Ginny, I know you are good at that Bat-Bogey hex but you can’t rely on it every time. It might
have worked as a distraction, but I knew exactly what you were going to do.”

Ginny nodded glumly.

Harry walked over and extended a hand to Hermione. She was still sitting on the floor looking
furious.

“I’ll have to wait for next time to see what you were planning,” he said with a smile as he
pulled Hermione up. “Just remember to watch out for friendly fire too.”

Hermione nodded.

Harry knelt and touched the ropes tightly binding Luna’s legs with the tip of his wand. They
loosened and then vanished.

“Luna, I only bound your legs. I know you couldn’t move but you should have carried on fighting
from the floor. I had my back to you for ages.”

“I know,” she said, rubbing her legs. “I thought I could free myself first. Anyway, I didn’t
feel it was right to attack your back.”

Harry smiled at her. “You’ll know next time,” he said gently.

Harry stood and turned to Ron. He was still rather red in the face and looking down at his
feet.

“You don’t have to say it, Harry. I know.”

Harry smiled. He’d let his best friend off. This time, anyway.

“Let’s start by practising the move that Ginny and Neville almost got right. Notice that Neville
was firing not just straight at me but in the place he thought I would dodge into when Ginny fired.
I had to count on Neville’s aim being a bit off or I’d have been in trouble.”

*

The Headmaster sent Harry a note suggesting weekly Occlumency lessons and these would be held on
Saturday afternoons provided there were no Quidditch matches. Their first meeting was to be held on
the second weekend as Harry would need the first Saturday to go to Diagon Alley with Lupin.

Harry was glad of an opportunity to spend some time with Lupin, who’d been surprised when Harry
refused his offer to extend the invitation to his friends.

“Where do you want to go to first?” asked Lupin as they left The Leaky Cauldron. “Quality
Quidditch Supplies looks as quiet as it’s going to get. It might be easier getting around there
without all the books you need.”

“Um, no thanks,” said Harry, checking his money bag was secure. “Let’s start with Flourish &
Blotts. There’s a particular book I’d like to get for Hermione and we might as well get all my
subject books as well.”

They passed Mr Florean Fortescue again and for the third time that morning politely refused to
sample his excellent ice-creams. The first time they had been hurrying to get some money from
Gringotts and the second time they were on their way back to The Leaky Cauldron for a superb late
breakfast. Unfortunately, Tom the Innkeeper hadn’t been able to provide them with a private room.
Harry would have liked to talk a few things through with Lupin.

Later, neither Harry nor Lupin felt they could refuse yet another invitation and they sat and
chatted over a couple of Mr Fortescue’s ice cream sundaes.

“Do you know where I could get something made up,” asked Harry. “I was hoping to make one of
Hermione’s presents this year and I just haven’t had the time.”

Harry had no idea what he should call Lupin these days. “Remus” just sounded cheeky coming from
him, “Professor” was clearly inaccurate and “Lupin” was just unfriendly. He decided to wait for
Lupin to tell him which he preferred and in the meantime didn’t call him by a name at all.

“What did you have in mind?” asked Lupin interestedly.

“I wanted to give her a portable writing desk. I thought if I could have it made here, I could
engrave it myself.”

“Well, I believe there’s a specialist furniture shop that does custom joinery, although,” Lupin
trailed off.

“What?”

“It’s just a suggestion, but is there no way you could make it yourself? I mean, Hermione is
sure to appreciate it more that way.”

Harry nodded. He had certainly appreciated the SPEW hat and gloves she had made for him.

“Hagrid is surprisingly good with wood, you know? I know his own furniture is rather rough and
ready, but some of the things he’s made are actually quite superb. He recently made a replacement
ornate table for Dumbledore office. Apparently something happened to the old one,” Lupin added with
a small grin.

Harry was mortified for a moment.

“I caused even more trouble than I knew, didn’t I,” he said flatly.

“Harry, Dumbledore has a love for hand made furniture, that’s all. Hagrid insisted upon making
the replacement to match his original. He loves making things for people. Ask him to show you how
to make something and he won’t give you a moment’s peace. You just see.”

Harry smiled at Lupin and nodded.

“Pardon me for asking, Harry,” said Lupin lowering his voice, “but I couldn’t help noticing you
withdrew quite a lot of gold this morning. Was there any particular reason?”

Harry smiled and nodded, withdrawing a scrap of printed newspaper from an inside pocket. He
handed the advert to Lupin.

“You’re going to get one for yourself as well, though, aren’t you?” Lupin asked
perceptively.

Harry frowned slightly and shook his head.

*

Harry entered the shop in Diagon Ally while Lupin insisted upon waiting outside to keep watch.
The small shop was packed full of luggage, trunks and cases of every size and colour. He was the
only customer.

As he approached the counter a small round man appeared wearing a wide smile.

“May I be of assistance, Sir?” he asked with a bow. “My name is Mr Serrure and I am the owner
and proprietor of this modest establishment.”

“I hope so,” said Harry. “I’ve seen your advert in The Quibbler and I was hoping you might be
able to provide me with what I need.”

Mr Serrure did a familiar double take upon recognising him. “Mr Potter, welcome,” he blustered
before composing himself.

“What have you in mind, Sir?”

“I would like six of those multiple compartment trunks.”

“How many compartments per trunk?”

“I’m not sure. What is the standard?”

“Well, two compartments are the minimum we can add up to five more per trunk. We will only add
compartments to our own manufactured trunks and it will be slightly more expensive to add them
later. All of our work comes with a lifetime guarantee, of course.”

Harry nodded.

“We would be happy to customise any compartment for you, or would you like me to check what we
have in stock?”

“Yes please, although one of the trunks I would like to be especially fitted out.”

“Well, let me check the stock list and then I’ll ask you to give me details of your requirements
so we can work out a price.”

It took a few minutes for Mr Serrure to go through his rather extensive stock list, but Harry
was happy to find he had four trunks with three compartments and one with two.

“May I ask, Sir? Are these intended as gifts?”

“Yes,” answered Harry. “All except the two compartment trunk which will be for me.”

Lupin had eventually persuaded Harry that he would need some extra storage space to carry all
his extra things.

A rather wishful smile played across Mr Serrure’s face.

“I don’t suppose one of the intended recipients is a Chudley Cannons fan?” he asked hopefully.
“We made a customised trunk for a patron some time ago but it wasn’t entirely to their
satisfaction. Rather too orange, apparently. I’d give a generous discount.”

Harry smiled and said, “I’ll take it!”

Mr Serrure immediately brightened up considerably. “You will? We’ll replace it free of charge
when, I mean, if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, but my friend is an avid fan.”

“They’d need to be,” quipped Mr Serrure. “Perhaps Sir would like to give me details of the
customised trunk?”

“Great,” said Harry fumbling for a piece of parchment in his pocket. “I’m not sure if all this
is going to be possible, though,” he said handing the sheet to Mr Serrure.

The shopkeeper studied the notes intently.

Mr Serrure looked up smiling. “We do like a challenge, but I think we can do this. The only
thing is, we may have to compromise the flexibility of the fourth compartment. What I mean is, you
might not have much of a choice over what we can fit in there.”

“I’d prefer it if you would give priority to the third compartment.”

“Excellent. Would you like me to work out a price?”

“Yes please, for everything. How long will it take you to make this?”

“Do you have a date in mind?”

“Ideally by 19th of September,” he replied. “But, it wouldn’t be too much of a
problem if it was later.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Mr Serrure scribbled some notes down and then rather hesitantly handed Harry his quotation.

“That’ll be fine,” said Harry immediately. “I’d like to pay in full now, if I may?”

*

Dumbledore had been surprised to discover that Harry had advanced well in his Occlumency since
the summer. Harry explained that his time with Jen had calmed him a lot and his new found control
of his emotions was a great help. Harry knew, however, that the main reason was not having Snape
making him so angry.

Harry had thought Dumbledore would be pleased his Occlumency was going well, especially as his
scar no longer hurt as much as it did.

In fact, his scar hardly hurt at all. All he now got was occasional twinges of pain in his side,
not that he admitted this to Dumbledore.

However, Dumbledore appeared mildly concerned, although he said nothing.

*

Harry frowned slightly having finished reading Mr Serrure’s letter. He had waited until he got
to the privacy of his dorm room before opening it. He handed the letter to Jen who read it
quickly.

“Wonderful!” she squealed quietly. “The trunks will be ready in time! What is it?”

“Mr Serrure says he’s fitted out all the trunks, not just Hermione’s.”

“So?”

“Well, he’s obviously just doing it because I bought them.”

“Rubbish,” said Jen dismissively, catching his eye. She was in her favourite Hermione form this
morning. “You are just feeling guilty for buying something for yourself that is the tiniest amount
more than the bare minimum you could make do with.”

Harry shrugged and put the letter away. It was uncomfortable having someone telling him that.
Not only was it perfectly true, listening to the words in Hermione’s voice made him feel worse
about it.

“How are you getting on with the other thing?” she asked, clearly trying to cheer him up.

“Almost finished,” Harry said reaching under his bed and pulling out a heavy cloth wrapped
timber box. He placed it on his bed and carefully unwrapped it.

“Oh, it’s wonderful, Harry. I’m not sure about all those markings though. I could try and polish
them off if you’d like!” Jen said with a laugh.

Harry laughed. She knew full well it had taken him hours to write them, having sat with him
through the nights as he worked.



11. Runes
---------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 11: Runes**

Harry’s additional defence classes that Dumbledore had promised were to be given by Professor
Flitwick and, to his great annoyance, Snape.

Rather than teaching together, Harry would attend separate evening lessons with each. When he
jokingly complained to Ron that he had all these extra evening lessons, Ron had quipped, “At least
you still have an evening free for detention with Snape!”

Harry had been rather surprised with Flitwick. He
remembered Hermione saying that he had been a champion dueller, and now he could well believe
that.

At the beginning of each lesson, they would discuss duelling techniques and usually Flitwick
would show Harry a new hex or defence. They would then practise with a duel, stopping if Harry had
any queries. Harry found that not one of his attacks had been truly effective but he knew he was
improving. Flitwick was as good a teacher at defensive magic as he was at charms. Harry could not
help but enjoy Flitwick’s enthusiasm.

As he lay, just after being unceremoniously blasted onto his back at the end of another good
session, Harry found himself grinning stupidly as a smiling Flitwick came up and offered a hand to
help him up. He really thought he had got Flitwick that time.

“Professor, just how much are you holding back?”

“Well, when we first started, quite a bit. You would have soon got discouraged if you thought
you had no chance. Besides, a good duellist will always try to keep something back,” said Flitwick
in his high pitched voice. “Right now you have a reasonably good arsenal of hexes, you just need to
learn application.”

“Application?”

“Yes. Unfortunately some wizards won’t always follow the rules of conduct for duelling. From
next time, our lessons will be held in the Great Hall. We’ll have more room to manoeuvre and see
how you react to a less sportsman-like attack.”

Harry would later regret not taking this warning seriously.

*

“Oh, go on. Tell me all about it,” pleaded Jen. “You know you want to, really.”

It was late into the evening and Harry was quite glad of an excuse not to finish his latest
Potions essay. They were alone in the common room and Jen had assumed Lavender’s form for much of
the evening, having been experimenting with different hair styles.

“Well, there are about eighty people who want to join the DA. Obviously word got around somehow,
and from what some of them were saying, quite a few more might be interested.”

“What did you practice?”

“Um, tonight we did shields and disarming. I just wanted to see what people’s abilities are. I’m
thinking of grading people so they get the right level of training.”

“You’ll teach all of them?”

“Sure, although obviously some of the senior years will have to teach as well. I’ve got quite a
few things to do at the moment.”

“Will Hermione teach?”

Harry smiled. It had taken Jen far longer than usual to get around to her favourite subject of
their late night discussions.

“Yes, Hermione has agreed to teach.”

“Is she very good at defence?”

“Yes, she’s better than everyone at most things, including the Seventh years.”

“Most things?”

“Well, there are some things she could be better at. She’s easily distracted and she still won’t
attack anyone who she thinks is defenceless.”

“Sounds like she would benefit from some private lessons, if you ask me,” Jen said with a sly
grin.

Harry rolled his eyes and returned to his essay.

It was rather annoying sometimes having someone around who knew his innermost thoughts and
feelings so intimately.

*

Snape’s defence lessons could not be more different from those with Flitwick. Harry felt he was
learning nothing.

In all his previous extra defence lessons with Snape, Harry had ended up in the Hospital Wing to
be patched up before returning late to Gryffindor Tower. Snape’s teaching technique consisted of
hurling curses at him from the moment Harry entered the room. They had not conversed at all so
far.

Snape clearly had no intention of showing Harry how to defend himself.

Harry would variously dive, block and counter with his own curses. Although he had improved each
time thanks to Flitwick, he would eventually tire and so far had always been revived on one of the
Hospital beds by a disapproving Madam Pomfrey.

As Harry’s index finger played along the long lines of books in the Restricted Section he paused
to examine a dusty black bound book. The skull embossed into the leather glared menacingly at
him.

As Harry slid the volume towards him, he wondered yet again whether or not he was doing the
right thing. He felt another short stabbing pain in his side.

He almost pushed the book back onto the shelf again. Then his mind’s eye remembered Snape. He
deserved something special for all his efforts.

*

Harry entered the room, fully on guard. He liked to at least know where Snape was before he got
blasted. Using the door as a shield, he scanned the room.

Snape had his back to him, apparently examining a book. Harry slid into the room as quietly as
possible and closed the door. Not once did he so much as blink.

The door clicked closed.

Harry felt somewhat disconcerted. This had never happened before.

He took a couple of steps into the room, his wand held out covering Snape.

Snape whirled around and shouted, “Legilimens!”

Nothing. Harry had blocked Snape’s attempt to read his mind completely with no effort at all.
Realising the futility of his attempt, Snape’s face distorted into a mad rage. Clearly, he was
supposed to be more of a push over.

Harry easily blocked the first two curses and dodged a third as he considered his options for a
counter attack. Harry was now very good at this kind of fighting. He gave the smallest smile to
himself which just enraged Snape further.

Harry had had enough.

It was time to show Snape something a little different. Something from his research in the
library’s restricted section.

Harry, concentrating intently, drew his wand slowly through the air. A long golden flame erupted
from the tip and hung in the air. As Harry flicked the end of his wand it broken away and flew with
a snake-like motion slowly and deliberately around the room in a wide arc.

Snape stared at the smokeless flaming serpent as it lazily headed off through the air. Snape had
to know it was moving to attack him from behind. It seemed alive.

Snape raised his wand and pointed directly at the flame. Instantly it turned in the air,
contemptuously avoiding the threat. Snape looked back at Harry who had just allowed his second
serpent to leave, this time moving slowly towards Snape but in the opposite direction.

Harry just stared at Snape waiting for him to beg him to call them off. It may be his only
chance.

For an instant Harry thought he saw fear in Snape’s eyes.

That distraction was almost very costly. Harry understood at that moment for the first time how
easy it could be to be seduced by dark magic. The easy thing would be just to let the flaming
serpents go. Instead he had to control them. These fiery creatures were conjured to attack Snape
and he could feel them straining to do just that.

Harry concentrated and was almost taken by surprise when both serpents struck at the same time.
Snape shouted in agony and dropped to his knees. One serpent had raked his back and the other his
side. As both serpents turned for a final blow Harry raised his wand and said quietly, “Finite”.
Instantly the serpents exploded into wisps of black smoke.

Harry pocketed his wand and went over to help Snape who was literally smouldering.

“Get your hands off me!” he shouted, pointing his wand directly at Harry. He looked for a moment
like he was considering a hex but eventually with one wave of his wand he drenched himself in
water. He groaned quietly in satisfaction as steam rose from him. With another wave he was dry
again but clearly still in some physical discomfort.

At that moment the door opened and Dumbledore entered.

He surveyed the scene before him saying, “My apologies, Severus. You should see Madam Pomfrey
immediately. We will talk later.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” growled Snape as he swept from the room.

Dumbledore turned to Harry with a very serious expression. “Please sit, Harry. I’d like to talk
to you about what just happened.”

Harry sat, not wanting to look Dumbledore directly in the eye.

“I asked Professor Snape to provoke you. In truth, I was expecting something altogether
different and certainly not this early. Where did you learn to perform that particular form of
magic? I happen to know there is nothing in the library’s Restricted Section.”

“It started because I’ve been trying to learn to perform magic without incantations. I got bits
from a couple of books and Jen described a couple of things she had seen. Mostly I just practised
on my own. I thought something like it should be possible after seeing you duel Voldemort. I
thought it might come in handy.”

Harry looked directly into Dumbledore’s blue eyes and continued earnestly, “I’ve never tried it
in the presence of anybody else before and I will keep my promise not to teach anyone else here how
to do it.”

“I should think so,” commented Dumbledore. “Actually, I doubt many other students could perform
such dark magic. I am, however, impressed that you didn’t allow Professor Snape to be seriously
hurt.”

“It was never my intention to really hurt him.” Tempting as it was, he thought.

“How many can you control at the same time?”

“Three, usually, unless I get distracted. Two is safest, better than one I mean. With only one I
tend to lose concentration. I did five once but things got a bit intense.”

“Five is over-stretching things. And are your avatars always serpents?”

Harry considered Dumbledore before answering. “No, but snakes are easier and I can make them
fly.”

“That’s because you can conjure a simple mind for them and give each a single clear objective,”
explained Dumbledore.

“I’ve managed a flaming lion a couple of times except it was quite small and could not fly. So
far it just roars once and then evaporates. I’ve also tried conjuring solid animals, non flaming. I
can do snakes okay and I did a dog once but they can’t fly and don’t follow instructions.”

“That will take many years to get right. I suspect the solid animals you have conjured are not
actually avatars at all. Have you tried animating objects? A suit of armour for instance?”
Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Er, yeah, I tried,” said Harry with a small laugh. “I tried to apologise to Mr Filch but he
just insisted it was Peeves again.”

Dumbledore smiled momentarily but then his expression grew serious.

“I think you felt tonight how easy it would be to give in to the darker side of magic. I did not
want to teach you these skills but you have acquired a beginning to this knowledge by yourself, as
indeed did I. You will find it very difficult from now on not to resort to deadly responses when
you are challenged. You must show restraint. The responsible thing now would be to practice and
prefect these skills.”

Harry nodded seriously. “The thing is, Professor, I’m pretty much at a dead end. I’ve not even
let Hermione or Ron know about this and …”

“I understand,” interrupted Dumbledore. “I will assist you so long as I believe you are being
responsible. There will be serious consequences otherwise. I am going to ask Professor Snape to
continue giving you additional defence lessons. You will not use an avatar against him no matter
what the provocation.”

“Yes Professor,” promised Harry, and he knew he’d finish his next lesson in the Hospital Wing
again.

“You should know, Harry, that I too once looked to the dark arts to fight what I thought was a
righteous cause. I paid a terrible price to learn that in the end violence and cruelty just
generates more violence and cruelty.”

Harry nodded. He knew this was true.

“The trick with avatars, either animated objects or conjured spirits, is to maintain control
when they go out of sight or any distance away. I found creating a maze of objects for them to
navigate around helped quite a bit. It took many years before I felt I retained real control.”

Dumbledore sighed heavily.

“You know? I didn’t see any of this when I tried to read your mind. It was clearly a mistake not
to have you watched,” Dumbledore said smiling. “Do I dare ask what else have you been up to?”

“Well, nothing with much success,” confessed Harry. “I have been trying to do some wand-less
magic though. I’ve done it before a couple of times, without trying to, but I can’t do it
anymore.”

Dumbledore stood and looked down at him. “There are wards within the castle that will be
preventing any real progress. Try practising in the grounds and keep it simple. Start with short
range summoning and repelling. Try without actually saying the incantations aloud and don’t expect
precise results. Later I’ll show you how to perform simple transfiguration. Don’t bother with
wand-less conjuring, that takes years to learn.

“Very few witches or wizards ever achieve reliable results with wand-less magic but I believe
you should consider asking Miss Granger to practise with you. I suspect she will be rather good at
wand-less magic. I’ll have to warn Hagrid though – I recall we lost quite a few trees when I
started to learn!

“Well, I must go and see how Severus is doing. Good evening, Harry.” And with that he left the
room leaving Harry to consider how he was going to create a maze to practise in.



12. Happy Birthday, Hermione
----------------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 12: Happy Birthday, Hermione**

Harry climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was deserted apart from Jen who was
sitting at a table.

He went over and said, “Hi.”

She looked up and Harry suddenly realised she was Hermione, not Jen. It was the first time he’d
ever mistaken them for each other.

Hermione smiled and said, “Hi, Harry.”

Harry sat down opposite her, realising it was the lack of books and parchment that probably
confused him.

Harry took a moment. He had been about to remind Jen that she agreed not to assume Hermione’s
form other than when she was alone with him.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“I was just thinking,” she replied. “Do you think I’m good enough?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, after all these DA sessions. I feel I might let you down.”

“Hermione, that’s not possible,” said Harry at once. “Look how well you ducked Ron’s stunner
last time.”

Hermione snorted and Harry grinned as they both remembered.

“You were rather hard on him for missing again. In fact you have been getting gradually harder
with everyone,” she said, and then looked straight into his eyes. “Except, that is, with me.”

Harry nodded. He couldn’t deny it.

“I don’t feel I can criticise you for not attacking a defenceless target,” he admitted, “because
I feel the same way.”

“Well, okay. But it’s not just that, is it?”

Harry looked down at his hands.

“It look us ten minutes to revive Ginny,” she reminded him. “You don’t hold back with anyone
except for me.”

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Harry said sadly. “I have been holding back, with everyone. It
still tears me up inside thinking I might hurt one of you. I just couldn’t bear it if I hurt you,
Hermione.”

“Tell me, Harry, why did you stun Ginny at all?”

“So she’ll know to block or dive when something more serious get fired at her.”

“Absolutely. So when something more serious gets fired at her she’ll stand a much better chance.
However, if the same thing gets fired at me, what chance do I have?”

“I was hoping that some of the others would get better, so you could practice safely with
them.”

“Really?”

“Er, no, not really,” he admitted. Harry wondered if Hermione knew how he’d threatened each of
her practice partners with what would happen if they hurt her.

“Please, Harry.”

He nodded and reached into his robes and drew out the homework planner she had given him for
their previous year. It was handy to keep a diary to keep track of all his activities this
year.

“You’ve still got that?” she asked incredulously. “I know Ron burned his after his OWL exams. I
assumed you’d do the same thing.”

“No chance,” said Harry, leafing through the pages. “Actually, if I hadn’t managed to stop it
singing to me, I might have burnt it.” This wasn’t true at all, of course. He’d never throw away a
gift from Hermione, no matter how irritating it became.

“How about lunchtime on Wednesday?”

“Um, sure, okay. What do you have in mind?”

“We are going to duel, but I don’t especially want an audience. I’m still going to hold back,
but I’ll try. It may take me a while, so you’ll have to be patient with me.”

“Great,” she said brightly.

*

Harry sat nervously down in the common room waiting for Hermione to appear. Jen was sitting next
to him in Ginny’s form. Ginny herself had departed a few minutes ago back up into the girl’s
dormitories carrying Harry’s wrapped birthday gift.

Parvati and Lavender came down the steps and came over to Harry and Jen.

“Harry, was the timber box from you?” asked Parvati.

“Yes, it’s a portable writing desk.”

“Well, Hermione obviously liked it,” said Lavender smiling. “We left her in hysterics!”

Harry grinned. He had been collecting and translating jokes and amusing sayings into runic for
ages. Every single surface of the writing desk was covered, including the insides of the tiny
drawers.

“We take it the runes actually mean something?” asked Parvati with a small smile.

“Maybe,” said Harry.

“Shame only Hermione can read them! Well, we’re going down to breakfast. See you later,
Jen.”

The girl’s dormitory door opened and Hermione skipped through and down the stairs. She looked
very red in the face and grinned widely at Harry as soon as she saw him.

“You liked it then?”

“Thank you, Harry. It is simply wonderful. You made it, didn’t you?”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“Hagrid helped me rather a lot.”

Hermione reached up and kissed him tenderly on his cheek.

“Thank you, Harry,” she breathed.

She was intoxicating. Harry closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Unfortunately, this
wasn’t quite the experience he was hoping for. Eyes watering, he resisted the impulse to cough for
as long as he could.

“Um, sorry about that,” she said apologetically. “I thought I should wear Ron’s present, as he
was kind enough to give me some again.”

Harry’s first thought was one of concern for Hermione’s skin. His second was for her new writing
desk. He was sure that perfume would make short work of the varnish.

Harry wiped his eyes and saw Jen grinning at him.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione!” she said. “Go on, Harry, tell her about the trunk!”

“Trunk?”

Harry tried to speak, but the perfume had somehow affected his vocal cords. After a short
coughing fit, he realised Jen was telling Hermione all about it.

“Harry has arranged for all the trunks to be sent to Hogsmeade and you’ll all collect them on
Saturday. He’s even got everyone special permission to go there too!”

*

Harry looked forward to his Saturday sessions with Dumbledore more and more, although often they
would just sit and talk.

It was clear that Dumbledore wanted Harry’s trust and had decided to be as open with him as
possible. Harry would listen to Dumbledore’s stories of his past and when they touched on a new
magical curse or spell, Harry would ask to try it.

Harry learned to become aware when Dumbledore was performing Legilimency on him, even though he
was much less invasive than Snape had ever been. Harry marvelled that the Headmaster could chat
happily about nothing and yet effortlessly interrogate his mind at the same time.

Under Dumbledore’s tutelage, Harry found his could consciously block attempts to perform
Legilimency on him. He also began to control what images came forward, although he wasn’t very good
at producing false images yet.

Dumbledore would also allow Harry to practise Legilimency on him. Harry was sure that the
Headmaster controlled what he was allowed to see but was never angry when Harry went deeper.
Dumbledore’s surprise at being forced to relive some of his memories was nothing to Harry’s shock
at seeing them. All manner of beasts and sights flashed before him.

Only twice did Dumbledore break the link by force: in one vision Harry had seen a terrifying
figure with angry dark red eyes advancing on him. It was not Voldemort. Who was this? The second
appeared to cause Dumbledore far more pain. A group of young children playing happily in a garden.
They were wearing Victorian clothes.

Harry had guided Dumbledore back to a chair and Fawkes flew to him. After a few moments
Dumbledore came back to himself and apologised but said he would not tell Harry anything about
those particular memories.

When he left that afternoon, Harry was sure that those children had been more than students and
something truly awful had happened to them.



13. The Duelling Lantern
------------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 13: The Duelling Lantern**

After regular classes one evening, Jen was waiting for Harry as he entered through the portrait
hole, looking very anxious. She had taken the form of a Fourth year girl Harry did not know.

“What’s the matter?” asked Harry, looking across the room to see her twin chatting happily to
two of her friends next to the fire.

“It’s Alice, I think she’s having problems with some homework and she’s afraid to ask”

Hermione, who had just come through behind Harry, said briskly, “Thanks Jen, I’ll see how she’s
doing. Why don’t you come and help?”

“But I don’t know the first thing about arithmancy, I won’t know any of the answers!”

“Well,” said Harry with a smile, “Hermione doesn’t generally give the answers.”

“That’s right! Harry wouldn’t learn anything if we just told him the answers. It’s more
beneficial to encourage and give guidance. Come on, let’s go find Alice now.”

“See you later,” said Harry as Hermione strode off with Jen following in her wake.

Harry had the feeling he would see many more Gryffindor girls with an identical twin doing
homework together from then on.

*

Shortly before eight o’clock in the evening, Harry entered the Great Hall for his next lesson
with Professor Flitwick. He closed the doors behind him.

The four house tables had been stacked to one side leaving a large area in the middle and he
found himself alone standing in the middle of the hall looking upwards at the dark evening sky.

Hearing the large centre doors being opened, Harry turned to see Professor Flitwick enter
carrying a large ornate lantern. He left the doors open.

“Ah, Harry. Good,” squeaked the tiny Professor and he carefully placed the lantern on the top of
one of the upturned house tables. Taking out his wand, he tapped the lantern and it lit instantly.
Initially the lantern burned bright white but then settled to a dull blue.

“What is that, Professor?” asked Harry as he walked towards him.

“This is a device that will enable us to use the full force of a duelling curse without actually
causing harm. While we are bathed in its light the full effect of most magic is reduced. Its main
function is to soak up any excess energy, but it has some other benefits too. Stand back a little
and I will demonstrate.”

“Er, okay,” said Harry with a little trepidation and he took a few paces away.

Flitwick pointed his wand directly at Harry and shouted, “*Stupefy*!”

Harry felt the spell hit him squarely on the chest and he was knocked forcefully onto his back.
Yet something strange had happened. Flitwick had not held back that time. He was sure he should
have been knocked unconscious. The other unaccountable thing was he hadn’t felt the impact of
falling on his back. He had arched back through the air and was now lying on his back. Somehow his
fall had been cushioned.

Harry got up to see Professor Flitwick levitating the lantern high over their heads.

“Professor, is there any limitation to what that lantern can do?”

“Yes. It is important to remember that it has little or no effect on the more Darker and
Unforgivable curses. It also prevents apparition and flying. Shields are unaffected as are physical
weapons. Levitating, summoning and the like can be difficult or impossible depending on its
mood.”

“It has moods?” asked Harry.

“Yes. The lantern was modified by a previous owner to vary the effect - so duellers can’t use
the dampening effect as a strategic advantage. It watches the duels. Unfortunately it is rather old
and now seems to get bored after a while. It sometimes even extinguishes itself. Shall we
begin?”

*

Two hours later, Harry found himself on his knees in the middle of the hall. He was exhausted
and ringing with sweat, unlike Flitwick.

“Once again, and then we’ll call it a night. Okay, Harry?”

Harry nodded and dragged himself to his feet. They raised their wands.

“Three, two, one. *Go*!”

Harry shouted his curse but in the same instant Flitwick appeared to be distracted by something
behind him. Flitwick had lowered his wand slightly at the last moment.

To his horror, Harry’s spell hit Flitwick square on the chest and he fell heavily.

Harry looked behind him. Nothing. He ran over to Flitwick who was not moving. The lantern had
gone out. Dropping his wand, he reached down and gently turned the tiny Professor over.

BANG!

Harry found himself thrown violently backwards. He lay on his back writhing in agony. Well, he
felt like writhing anyway. Actually, he could not move. How could Flitwick have done that? Flitwick
stood over him looking down. He had been feigning.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but you have to learn. The pain will subside in a few minutes,” he said
coldly, extending his wand arm and pointing up to the lantern. The lantern gently returned to the
ground.

Picking up the lantern, Flitwick waited until Harry started to move again. In the time it took
for Harry to recover, his anger had subsided a little.

“If you were fighting You-Know-Who, would you have dropped your wand and gone to give assistance
in the middle of a duel? Of course not. You will do better next time.”

*

The next day, Neville nervously held his wand up, assuming his preferred duelling position.

“Try to relax, Neville,” advised Harry, still standing with his wand arm relaxed at his
side.

This didn’t appear to help.

Harry was, he had to admit, not in the best of moods. Just having Snape for Potions a few
minutes before did that to him. His words to Neville had been short and cold. Like he just wanted
to get this over with and do something more worthwhile, leaving Neville to recover slowly.

Neville deserved better, Harry knew.

“I’m sorry, Neville. You count down, okay?”

Neville nodded nervously.

“Are there any spells you don’t want me to use?” asked Harry assuming his position.

“No,” spat Neville angrily.

Harry was about to say, “Sorry,” when Neville shouted out.

“On three. One, two, *three*!”

Neville had shouted the words very quickly and had moved the instant he’d said, “Three!”

Neville blasted a cloud of thick smoke at Harry from the tip of his wand. Harry whirled around,
pleased that Neville was getting so much better.

Harry dived to the floor. A stunner made the hair on the back of his head tingle. That was
close.

Harry rolled away silently. The whole room was filled with smoke now.

Harry pointed his wand, throwing a thumping sound a few feet away. Instantly three red stunners
blasted where the noise came from. Harry knew where Neville was now.

He stealthily got up. He could just make out a shadow.

Harry rushed forward, and was about to shout, “*Stupify*!” when he tripped and fell.

Harry was helpless as he heard Neville shout his stinging hex.

Harry was blasted onto his back. He looked up through dazed, watering eyes to see Neville
approach him, having vanished the smoke.

Neville looked absolutely terrified.

“N. Neville,” Harry stuttered through his agony. “That was great! Really good tripping jinx
too.”

Neville face broke into a smile and he heaved Harry to his feet, although he then wished he’d
stayed on the floor until the pain eased a bit.



14. The Three Broomsticks
-------------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 14: The Three
Broomsticks**

Harry led the way into the Three Broomsticks and held open the door while Hermione, Ron, Ginny,
Luna and Neville entered.

He closed the door behind them and then walked over to the bar where Mr Serrure was chatting
with Madam Rosmerta.

“Mr Potter,” said Serrure brightly, stepping forward and shaking Harry’s hand.

Madam Rosmerta smiled and said, “If you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you into your dining
room. Lunch will be served as soon as you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, before turning to his friends. “You go through, I just need a quick word
with Mr Serrure.”

Looking curious, the five of them followed Madam Rosmerta upstairs to one of the private dining
areas. Harry hadn’t told them they were having lunch there as well.

Harry turned to Mr Serrure and asked, “Is everything okay? I didn’t expect you to deliver the
trunks in person.”

“All part of the service, Mr Potter. However, I did want to warn you that we did have some
trouble with the third compartment. We came up with a solution but if you are in any way
dissatisfied, we’ll rectify it at once.”

“What was the problem?”

“It was the shear size and weight of the contents. We solved it by pinching some space from
another compartment.”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t entirely surprised.

Harry hesitated before saying, “Mr Serrure, I appreciate all the extra fitting out you did on
the trunks, but I would prefer to pay for them.”

“I will not hear of it,” said Serrure with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Frankly, Mr Potter,
it’s not every day that someone buys six trunks from us. Most of my trade comes from repeat
business. I’m really only making sure you think of us first when your storage needs change.”

Harry nodded and they shook hands again before Mr Serrure departed.

Harry began to climb the stairs, thinking of Jen’s words. He had hoped she would be prepared to
sneak out and join them today. She had refused, saying she was tired. He knew this was true; Jen
had good days and bad, but he also knew that wasn’t the main reason she had refused.

*

Harry entered the dining room to see his five friends sat around a large circular table which
was heaving with an assortment of food and drinks.

Madam Rosmerta smiled and said, “I’ll leave you now, but please ring the bell if you need
anything. There are more drinks in the cupboard, and don’t worry, the dessert trolley will make
several laps when you’re ready,” before closing the door behind them.

Harry smiled and sat down.

“I hope you don’t mind, but you’re all going to have early birthday presents. I kind of got a
bulk discount,” he said nodding at the six large gift wrapped parcels stacked to the side of the
room. The others looked at them curiously.

“Let’s eat first and then you can unwrap them. Mr Serrure was a little concerned that Ron’s
might cause brain damage, but I assured him we’d hardly notice.”

Harry raised his glass. The others followed.

“This is my way of apologising for all the horrible things I’m going to do to you while we’re
training. But for now, Happy Birthday!”

*

Harry felt he could hardly move after lunch. He sat looking around the table as his closest
friends chatted and laughed.

“Hey, Harry,” prompted Ron. “I want my present!”

Harry grinned at his friend and heaved himself out of his chair. It wasn’t too difficult to find
Ron’s trunk. It was the only one that had violent orange wrapping paper. Harry lifted the
surprisingly light trunk over and placed it next to Ron.

“Let’s look at one at a time,” he said. “I promise you, Ron’s should be unique though.”

Ron frowned but his curiosity got the better of him. He tore the paper off with gusto.

The trunk was made of a deep red leather with polished brass fittings. An ornate plate above the
three locks read, “RBW,” and on the top of the trunk was an envelope with three keys inside.

“You have to put the keys in each of the locks,” explained Harry.

Ron inserted a key in the first lock and turned.

He opened the lid. Inside was an expanded trunk, probably twice the size inside as his old
trunk, and significantly bigger on the inside than out.

“Hey, this is great. Thanks, Harry.”

“Try the other keys,” encouraged Harry.

Ron closed the lid and tried the second key.

This time when Ron opened the lid, the lining was of a green felt rather than the deep red
lining before. In addition, the sides had drawer faces.

Ron reached in and pulled one of the drawers open. It was crammed full of parchment, ink and
quills.

“Wow,” breathed Ginny.

Ron closed the drawer and closed the lid. With some trepidation he turned the third key and
opened the lid. When the lid was opened fully, light flooded out from inside the trunk. They peered
inside and were amazed to see steps leading down to a room.

“Let’s go and explore!” said Ginny.

The six of them descended into a large room in which was a large writing desk and side table, an
office chair and a reading chair and a couple of stacking seats. One wall was lined with
bookshelves but the other wall appeared to have a wide window that looked like it was a grandstand
view of a Quidditch stadium. It was actually the Chudley Cannon Stadium.

Out over the pitch they could see a group of players practicing.

“It won’t really be like being there,” said Harry, “but you should get a commentary on match
days.”

“Harry, I can’t accept this,” said Ron seriously.

“It’s for school. Actually, I thought you were only getting an ordinary window in this
compartment. The Quidditch stadium was supposed to be next door. Let’s go and see, shall we?”

He walked over and opened the single door.

“Ah,” he said looking in before he entered, “now I get it. That is only the training pitch. Come
and see the proper view.”

The three of them followed Harry into the last compartment.

It was quite extraordinary. He’d been told it was a games room. This was something else.

One complete side of the large room was one entire curved window that gave a panoramic view of
the main stadium. The view was superb. In front of the window was a row of comfortable chairs, each
with a pair of Omniocular glasses.

Behind these chairs was a balustrade which looked ideal for leaning against whist watching a
game. Behind this was an assortment of pool, billiards and snooker tables. One complete side of the
room was actually a fully equipped and stocked bar. A couple of doors were marked with toilet signs
and the other walls were decorated with an assortment of diversions.

Whoever commissioned this trunk originally must have been a serious fan. The whole room,
including the carpets, was a vivid orange to match the home team.

Ron looked stunned.

“How much did this lot cost?”

“I got it cheap. Mr Serrure made this for someone else. He thought he’d never get rid of
it!”

Ron frowned.

“I admit this room is a bit more than I thought you’d be getting. They appear to have got a bit
carried away. Just think of all the hard work you'll be putting into your studies this year,”
Harry said with a grin. “I think you deserve somewhere to come and relax a little.”

“This place is amazing,” said Ginny coming back out of the ladies toilet.

“Ginny, please tell me you didn’t. Not in my trunk!”

“Harry, what if someone locks us in?” asked Neville.

“Well, we wouldn’t notice if the trunk was moved, so that might be a problem except that it is
magically anchored for as long as Ron is inside. Also, only those invited by Ron can enter. I think
the full list of instructions is pasted inside the lid. The bar will restock itself from the cellar
but the cellar has to be refilled every couple of years depending on use.”

“Harry, this is too much.”

“Well, maybe having everything in orange was too much, but nothing else. Just invite me to a
couple of matches, okay?”

Ron grinned and they made their way back to the dining room.

“You do realise we’re never going to see him again, don’t you?” quipped Ginny as she climbed
out.

“I’m afraid the other trunks aren’t quite as orange inside,” said Harry he watched his friends
find their trunks.

Hermione carefully removed the wrapping paper from hers and opened her envelope. He took out two
keys and immediately looked up at Harry. He knew at once why she was puzzled. Her trunk had four
locks and four compartments, not two.

Harry shook his head slightly and Hermione nodded in understanding. He wanted to be alone with
her when she explored her trunk for the first time.

She joined the others who were investigating Luna’s trunk. Unlike Ron and Hermione’s trunks, all
of the others had large plain compartments.

Harry grinned and was about to follow when Ron pulled him back.

“Don’t tell me you support another team now?” joked Harry.

“Hardly,” said Ron.

“I just wanted to say thanks for all this,” Ron said quietly. “You shouldn’t have, but thanks.
It must have cost a fortune, though.”

Harry shook his head.

“Not really. Look, I even got one for myself. To tell the truth,” he said lowering his voice,
“I’m mostly scared that Hermione will find out how much hers cost. That one really was a bit
expensive. They kind of threw a lot of extras in for free when I said I wanted six, especially with
all of Hermione’s modifications.”

They were interrupted by the sound of a loud laugh coming from the bar downstairs. Hagrid had
arrived to take them and their trunks back to school.

*

Hagrid had been thoughtful enough to bring a large hand-drawn cart for them to carry back their
trunks.

This was particularly handy, as this proved a convenient way to transport Hagrid back to
school.

“How on earth did he get this drunk so quickly?” whispered Hermione as she levitated their
trunks ahead of them. The other five were pushing or pulling the cart.

“Well, if we hadn’t told him these were all birthday presents, it might have cut down the number
of toasts,” said Neville.

“I doubt it,” added Ron dryly.

Harry grinned as Hagrid woke up again and sang yet another verse of a rather rude drinking
song.

*

Harry slumped down in an armchair and put his feet up on his unopened trunk. It was now very
late and he’d just said goodnight to his friends. It was now his custom to be the last to leave the
common room because invariably, Jen liked to talk to him then.

Harry heard paper tearing and smiled. He opened his eyes to see Jen opening the envelope.

“Harry, you’ve got three different keys,” she said. “Two of them are tied together with a blue
ribbon. Which one do we use?”

“No, those keys are Hermione’s,” he said tiredly. “How are you? I wish you’d have come with us,
and I’m not just saying that because Hagrid was so heavy.”

Jen smiled at him and pushed his legs off the top of the trunk.

“Hang on,” said Harry, waking up. “Why has my trunk got only one key?”

The trunk was a luxurious deep brown leather with polished brass fittings. A small brass plate
bore the initials, “HJP,” on the front over the four keyholes. Harry noted that the key arrangement
was slightly different than Ron’s as this had a single large escutcheon plate rather than four
separate escutcheons.

He looked in the small envelope and found a note.

The note advised him that his trunk was fitted with a new type of lock that required only a
single key to select compartments. Additional spare keys would be found inside one of the
compartment drawers.

Harry inserted the key in the first lock and turned it. He opened the lid and looked in. As
expected the trunk was somewhat larger than it appeared from the outside but was otherwise
unremarkable. Harry noted the rich deep red coloured lining and again felt a little uncomfortable
at buying such an extravagant item for himself.

He closed the lid and locked the trunk again. He then turned the second lock and opened the
lid.

Harry was surprised to see that this compartment was lined with polished wood and appeared to be
the same size as the outside of the trunk. He allowed the lid to fall back so that it was fully
open. As he did so the bottom of the trunk rose up until what looked like a thin tallboy wardrobe
appeared in front of him. It stood about six feet tall but was the plan size of the original
trunk.

“Is this normal?” asked Jen.

“I honestly have no idea,” replied Harry.

He tentatively pulled the brass ring pull at the front. A door in the same polished timber
opened and Harry looked in. It was a complete walk-in wardrobe. On two sides were hanging rails
separated by an assortment of full length mirrors and at the back were a generous number of clothes
drawers with shoe holders underneath.

They both stepped inside and looked around. As he walked towards the rear of the room he
realised it was deeper than he thought. There was a fold away ironing board, a trouser press, a
dressing table with mirror and a small safe.

Curious, he bent down and touched the metal face of the safe. Instantly it opened with a click.
There was only a note inside telling him that the safe was keyed to his personal touch and that no
key or combination was necessary.

He stood and noticed a door to the side. He opened it and was startled to find a small bathroom.
It was equipped with a toilet, shower and wash hand basin and was tiled throughout in white marble.
Otherwise it was plain and functional.

He walked in and turned a tap. Hot soapy water gushed out. He instinctively held his hand under
one of the many wall mounted metal nozzles. Hot air blasted out, drying his hand almost at
once.

As he exited, he looked again at the similar sized door directly opposite. He had assumed it was
just a cupboard. Opening the door, he found a bedroom complete with double bed, side tables and
dressing table. All of the furnishings were simple and restrained. He supposed it made sense to
provide emergency accommodation if there was room.

Harry sighed and walked out again to join Jen who had already exited. This was rather more than
he thought he was getting. As he closed the door and watched the wardrobe descend back into the
trunk he realised that even a standard wizard would be likely to have these sorts of features. He
mused that he would probably never have enough clothes to fill a fraction of the space
available.

“Stop it, Harry,” said Jen, knowing exactly what he was feeling. “Try the third lock.”

He locked the trunk again and opened the third compartment.

This time steps led down to what looked like a fairly plain room. He stepped into the trunk and
went down the steps which were of a ship’s ladder type and didn’t have the rope handrails that
Ron’s trunk had.

As his foot reached the floor of the room, lanterns lit themselves.

“Ah,” said Jen reaching the bottom of the steps. “Plain and simple,” she mocked.

This compartment was indeed much more to Harry’s liking. The room was square and one wall
consisted entirely of drawers of varying sizes. Opposite was a large white board surrounded by
cupboards of different sizes. The floor was bare and in each of the remaining walls there were
doors that looked like store rooms for larger objects.

Harry noticed that each drawer and door was labelled with a number.

There was some writing on the whiteboard over which was a plate bearing the inscription,
“Inventory.”

Harry looked in his pockets and found a silver Sickle. He opened a small drawer and dropped it
inside. As he pushed the drawer to close it, the drawer closed under its own motivation. On the
whiteboard some new text appeared. It gave a description of the item and its location.

He grinned. He liked this compartment.

He was about to climb back up the stairs when Jen said, “Hey, we might as well look in the
larger storerooms as well.”

He gasped when he looked in the first. It was a fully equipped potions preparation area. All of
the walls were lined with glass fronted cupboards and drawers brimming with potions materials and
delicate measuring devices. Cauldrons of various sizes scattered the room next to solid looking
benches. A bookcase stood with rows and rows of potions books.

Harry was a little relieved to find that the adjacent door had nothing but a plain empty room.
It was clearly just a storeroom, and he proceeded quickly to the doors opposite.

He opened the third door and knew immediately that this one wasn’t a storeroom either. The floor
was covered in a luxurious red carpet. He opened the door wider and groaned.

It was a small library. He walked in and looked at the titles that filled the shelves.

Harry nodded to himself. The shop had mixed up the order. These were the very same books he had
ordered for Hermione’s trunk.

He sighed, realising that although it might take a while to move the books over, at least she
would have them.

He exited and looked in the last storeroom.

Jen took one look inside and said, “*Boring*! I’m going back to the common room.”

Harry thought this was a much more interesting space, though. It was plain with stone lined
circular walls and stone flag paving. The ceiling was high and brick vaulted. Lanterns were
suspended from the ceiling.

This area would be ideal for practising Defence Against the Dark Arts, he thought. He walked
over to the other side of the room. It was deceptively large.

He opened a door on the other side and found it was stockroom, filled with targets, cushions and
the like. He closed the door, but immediately withdrew his wand and spun around. A cloaked figure
stood in the middle of the room facing him.

“Who are you?” demanded Harry, advancing on the figure.

“I do not have a name,” said the figure calmly.

Harry realised he was of a similar height and build as himself. He sounded young too.

“Remove the cloak so I can see your face,” ordered Harry. The young man did so and grinned at
Harry before giving a short bow.

Harry was now no more than ten feet away from the youth. He could see clearly now. There was no
mistake.

Harry was looking at himself.

“Perhaps I should explain. I take the form of whoever wishes to train in this room. You
activated me when you walked over that painted circle over there. You will find I’m as agile and
strong as you are, but I cannot leave this room. In addition, I cannot actually kill my opponent
nor fight a child. A full list of safeguards is on the back of the door you came in from.”

“Are you part of a standard trunk?”

“My knowledge is limited. I know nothing beyond this room.”

“How are you deactivated?”

“Render me unconscious or leave the duelling zone. The zone is marked by the yellow line around
the room.”

Harry nodded and said, “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you later. Will you remember?”

“No, all my memories are reset when I deactivate.”

Harry closed the door behind him feeling distinctly uneasy.

He climbed the steps. He needed to make some enquiries with the shop. He would also ask Lupin’s
advice.

He locked the third compartment and then stood for a while, deep in thought.

“Harry, have I got to wait all night?” prompted Jen impatiently. “Come on, let’s look in the
last compartment!”

Harry smiled at her and inserted the key into the fourth lock.

It wouldn’t turn though.



15. The Fourth Compartment
--------------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 15: The Fourth Compartment**

Harry dragged his trunk into the shop. Lupin followed and closed the door behind him.

The shopkeeper welcomed them with a wide smile and said, “Welcome back, Mr Potter! May we be of
further assistance?”

“I have a couple of queries regarding my trunk.”

“Really? Is there anything wrong?” he asked with concern.

“I asked for a trunk that was standard. I know you said you’d fit it out but I really wasn’t
expecting this lot.”

“Let me check with the workshop foreman.”

The shopkeeper stepped to one side and bent down. He lifted a trap door and shouted, “Mr Bandle?
There is a query with Mr Potter’s trunk. I’m sorry to interrupt your break, but would you be kind
enough to come up and bring the specification sheets with you?”

A moment later a tiny, rather elderly wizard appeared and bowed before Harry. He looked rather
concerned that his work might not be to Harry’s satisfaction.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed your break,” began Harry.

“Not at all, Sir,” he replied in a rasping voice. “Would you like to show me the problem?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a problem with the workmanship. Quite the reverse, actually. Could you
tell me first, is the wardrobe a standard feature.”

“Oh yes, Sir! All of our standard trunks include wardrobe facilities. We can expand it if you
wish?”

“No, no,” said Harry. “What about the bedroom and bathroom?”

“Indeed. They are the main selling points.”

“That’s fine then,” said Harry. “I’m very happy with that compartment, and the first plain one
too.”

“Thank you, Sir,” said the foreman bowing again.

“Is the third compartment standard?”

The foreman checked his notes and said, “No, not entirely, Sir. I do apologise if I installed
anything not to your liking.”

“I’m afraid I’m responsible for that compartment,” admitted Mr Serrure. “I told you we would fit
it out, and I rather got the impression you would like a plain and functional storage area.”

“Well, I do,” agreed Harry. “The central store room is great.”

“Well, originally we just put the four large storage rooms in,” continued the shopkeeper. “The
problem was it really didn’t seem to justify the amount we were charging for the entire commission,
especially as you were so generous with the bespoke trunk.

“Then we had the idea to fit out three of the store rooms properly. We knew you were still at
Hogwarts, so we included a study area and a practical area. The practical area may be customised
for any NEWT level area of study as needed. You probably found the control dial next to the door.
We defaulted to Potions because we assumed you’d be taking that. Then we had a brainwave! We were
certain you’d want an area to train, so we included a Defence Against the Dark Arts arena too.”

“But why is the library stocked with the books I selected for Hermione’s trunk?”

“We weren’t sure what books you would want, so we just assumed you would wish to start with the
same. We can remove or revise anything not entirely to your satisfaction.”

Harry frowned a little. He looked at Lupin who gave him a small smile and a nod.

“Very well. The only problem I have is that I think you undercharged me for this trunk. The
extras are entirely to my satisfaction, and to be honest I would have specified them had I known
you could provide them. Please work out the proper price for this trunk so I can pay you the
correct price.”

To Harry’s surprise the two men looked uneasily at each other.

“Did Sir investigate the fourth compartment?”

“No, actually. I forgot about that. The key wouldn’t turn.”

“That’s because we had a problem with the last compartment. We will refund your money entirely
if you wish.”

“Tell me about the problem,” said Harry gently.

“Well, it isn’t always there. We borrowed some of the expanded space for use in the other
trunk’s compartment due to the short time available.”

“So is the other trunk safe?”

“Perfectly, Sir, as is yours. Once we figure out what went wrong, we’ll replace your defective
compartment free of charge.”

“No, I don’t really need a fourth compartment anyway,” said Harry, feeling happier knowing
Hermione’s trunk was probably okay. “I just need you to work out the proper price for my
trunk.”

*

Harry waited alone in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else had gone to bed and he was
feeling a little anxious.

He’d even managed to persuade Jen to give them some time alone, although she had purposely
misunderstood his innocent explanation why.

“Someone’s just hoping for another kiss,” she had teased him. “I’ll tell her to wear plenty of
that perfume you liked so much, shall I?”

The door to the girl’s dormitories opened and Hermione came down the steps, easily carrying her
trunk.

“Hi,” she said putting the trunk down at his feet.

“Hermione,” began Harry gently, “I’m really sorry.”

“What for?”

“Come on, it was written all over your face when I asked you to meet me. I should have realised.
I know you gave away your old trunk already. You were bound to have some private things in your new
trunk. I just didn’t think.”

“Harry, what do you imagine I’ve got in here?” she asked laughing.

“We don’t have to do this now. I can order a plain trunk for you to have while this one goes
away to get fixed.”

“Are you even sure it needs fixing?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. My last compartment won’t open, although the other three are great.
I just wanted yours to be perfect, that’s all.”

“What about the other trunks?”

“I’ve checked and they’re fine. Yours is a bit different though.”

Harry handed Hermione her keys. This was, finally, the moment he’d been dreading and at the same
time looking forward to. He knew she would scold him for such an extravagance, but he needed to do
this.

“I wanted to be with you when you saw it for the first time anyway,” he said smiling
sheepishly.

Hermione blushed slightly and opened the third compartment. They descended the stairs into a
small lobby with a single pair of doors ahead of them.

Harry took hold of Hermione’s hand and led her into the next room, saying, “Happy Birthday,
Hermione.”

*

Hermione gasped.

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t get carried away like they did with Ron’s,” said Harry with a
grin.

They were standing in an enormous room. It was a perfect reproduction of the Hogwart’s library.
Most of the shelves were empty, though and under the rows of reading tables stood matching filing
cabinets.

Harry led Hermione towards her favourite corner, revealing a slight change from the Hogwarts
original.

Hermione’s favoured reading table stood in front of a large pair of french doors which had
sunlight streaming through them.

Hermione went over and peered through the glass.

“Where is this a view of, Harry?”

Harry reached down and turned the handle. He then threw both doors open and led Hermione
outside.

“I know you like to read outside sometimes,” said Harry as they stepped to the edge of the stone
patio and looked down towards the lake.

Hermione looked around in wonder.

“How much of this is an illusion?” she asked as a light breeze blew her hair.

“Most of what we can see. I think the limits that we can actually occupy are the bushes of each
side and a few feet beyond the waterline. The weather changes every so often, but it won’t ever
rain if you’re out here.”

“How did they manage to get anything this big inside the compartment?” asked Hermione as she
stepped back inside the library.

“With difficulty, I suspect,” said Harry. “I just wanted you to have enough space to add some
books if you wanted.”

“This is wonderful, Harry. Thank you,” said Hermione and she kissed him lightly on his cheek
before walking back inside.

Harry blushed and followed her, deciding to leave her to discover the last compartment on her
own. Mr Serrure had assured him that Hermione’s final compartment was fine, even if his wasn’t.

Hermione stroked her hand over one of the highly polished surfaces.

“I know these trunks were expensive, Harry,” she said. “I expect you’ve been waiting for me to
tell you off.”

Harry looked down.

“Well, to be honest, I hardly know what I should say. On the one hand, it was a wonderful
gesture, especially getting one for each of us. We certainly needed the space. I also know you
don’t value things just by how much they cost.”

Harry looked up to see Hermione looking at him intently.

“No, Harry, I’m not going to tell you off just now. I’d like you to know why, though. Ever since
you’ve got back to school you’ve been distant. I’ve felt that Harry and it hurts. I put it down to
what happened over the holiday, but I’m more and more convinced it’s something else.”

Harry looked down again, feeling his throat tighten.

*He had hurt her. He had hurt her by not telling her and he was afraid of hurting her if he
did tell her.*

“So,” she continued gently, “until you are prepared to talk to me properly about, well, whatever
is *really* the matter, I’ll put up with what you are trying to say with all this.”

She walked over and looped an arm around his.

“Let’s take a proper look around outside, shall we?” she asked.

Harry nodded and allowed himself to be guided outside.

“I was so angry with you, Harry,” she barely whispered. “I needed you. I kept writing, hoping
you’d help me. You never failed me before, but this time it seemed you had just abandoned me. The
loss of Sirius only hit me when I got home, but I still felt his loss.”

Harry stopped, totally mortified at what Hermione had just said.

“Shh,” she said gently. “We’ll be fine.”

As they went out into the sunshine, Hermione said casually, “Jen’s just as mad with you as I am,
isn’t she?”

Thankfully, Hermione didn’t appear to need and answer.

*

The next Saturday was a Chudley Cannons home match and Ron had invited everyone to join him in
his trunk.

Harry stayed for a short while but soon became restless.

He left and climbed out of the trunk into the deserted common room. It was unusual for him to
have any time on his hands. He had planned on Dumbledore being available to teach him Occlumency,
but the Headmaster had cancelled that morning.

Harry would have liked to spend some time with Hermione, but she had insisted she had to do all
her homework first and had retreated up into the girl’s dormitories. Harry suspected she wanted to
take advantage of the peace and quiet since everyone else appeared to be cheering the Cannons
on.

He trudged upstairs. He supposed he should do some homework.

As he opened the door to the dormitory, he suddenly remembered the training compartment within
his own trunk.

He quickly entered and fumbled for his key.

Harry absently stuffed his key in the lock and turned it. He was about to open the trunk lid
when he realised he had mistakenly put the key in the last lock and not the third. It had never
turned before.

He cautiously lifted the lid and lanterns revealed another set of steps leading down into a
large room inside the trunk.

Harry grabbed his wand and climbed down the steep ladder.

The room was plain and ahead of him was a single door. He reached out and pulled at the handle.
A gush of warm steamy air wafted towards him.

He stepped onto the marble covered floor of the next room.

Harry took a few steps into the room and sighed deeply.

“Just great,” he said aloud, realising the trunk makers had made a mistake. The luxury bathroom
that Mr Serrure had admitted installing as Hermione’s fourth compartment had been installed as his
trunk instead.

“Harry?”

Harry spun around. Hermione was staring at him looking quite shocked.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” she asked.

Harry just stared back at her and she lowered herself a little lower into the swimming pool
sized bath, although the dense foam bubbles quite covered her modesty.

“Hermione, I’m sorry,” said Harry. “The trunk makers made a mistake. This bathroom was supposed
to be installed in your fourth compartment, not mine. How did you get in anyway? I suppose your key
worked in my last lock?”

“Harry, this is *my* trunk. We are in my fourth compartment.”

“Oh,” said Harry turning away, having failed to stop his eyes wandering down to the bubbles
covering Hermione. “I’d better leave. Sorry. Happy Bubb- Birthday.”

*

Harry reached the sanctuary of his trunk workshop wondering if it was actually possible to die
of embarrassment. After several anguished minutes, he decided to go and practice duelling for a
while.

The practice duelling didn’t really help much. His mind kept wandering back to the bubbles and
he paid dearly for his lack of concentration.

Much later he would endure Jen’s teasing as well.

“Harry, you should have just jumped in!”



16. The Knight
--------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 16: The Knight**

“Harry, how is it you can tell Jen apart, even when she looks just like someone else?” asked
Hermione as they came back from the library.

Harry had been on tenterhooks around Hermione ever since his little excursion into the fourth
compartment of her trunk. Thankfully she had taken pity on him and made no further mention of it at
all, unlike Jen who had been making loud “bubble” related remarks ever since. Harry decided to let
her have her fun, especially as she clearly hadn’t actually told anyone else what really
happened.

Harry was more concerned about Hermione’s reaction. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He
was sure Hermione was annoyed about something but was trying to overlook it. He had seen it in her
eyes the next morning. Somehow, he felt sure it wasn’t his presence there or even his wandering
eyes. *What had he missed*?

“Well, you don’t have trouble telling Fred and George apart, do you?” Harry replied, trying to
keep up their conversation. “They look and sound identical but they still have their
differences.”

“Yes, but we’ve known Fred and George for a while now. Jen changes several times a day and I’ve
seen you address her when I know you’ve never even spoken to the girl she’s impersonating.”

Harry nodded, thinking of how he might steer the subject away.

“Mind you, even I could tell her apart when Parvati and Lavender were having their make-up
party.”

Harry almost asked why that was before he thought better of it.

Hermione was quite right, of course. Harry couldn’t tell Jen apart just by the way she acted,
but he wasn’t about to admit the truth just yet, even to Hermione.

“Ready for our duel?” asked Harry, pleased with himself that he’d rather deftly changed the
subject.

Pleased, that was, until he saw Hermione’s appraising look. He wondered how much she had worked
out on her own.

*

Harry closed the door to the Room of Requirement and turned the key.

He turned and walked over to the middle of the room where Hermione was standing, staring at the
unusual room contents.

“Sorry about all that,” said Harry pointing at all the piles of bandage boxes, stretchers and
other First Aid paraphernalia that surrounded them. “You can see what’s been on my mind. I’ve no
idea why I was thinking of that thing though.”

Hermione smiled and said, “Actually, I think that might have been me. Still, at least we both
managed to require enough floor matting.”

Harry threw his bag next to Hermione’s at the side and walked out to assume his start position,
wand in hand.

Hermione was ready.

“Okay, ready?” he asked. Hermione nodded, raising her wand.

“On three then. One, Two, Three!”

“*Expelliarmus*!”

“*Protego*!”

“*Protego*! *Stupefy*! *Accio*!”

Harry hurried over to where Hermione was lying unconscious. He felt absolutely terrible. How
could he be doing this to her?

Delicately waving strands of hair from her face, he composed himself again. He had to at least
try and maintain this façade. He felt Hermione would never forgive him otherwise.

“*Ennervate*!” he said gently and she woke at once, looking momentarily confused.

Harry pulled her to her feet again and returned her wand.

“Again,” he demanded, assuming the same tone he had with the others when he knew they could do
better.

*

Harry and Hermione sat together for a while, on the large comfortable sofa that Hermione had
apparently required, before making their way to their afternoon lessons.

“You are really improving, Hermione, although I do think that firing foam at me was a bit
underhand.”

Hermione grinned at him.

“Jen said you still had a bubble fixation.”

“Look, I’m really sorry about that.”

Hermione laughed and said, “Harry, it’s okay. Is Jen still teasing you?”

“Only every time I see her. She still thinks I should have jumped in.”

Hermione laughed harder. A very red Harry made to leave.

*

Harry was quietly determined to pay Flitwick back for his last attack. He knew Flitwick had been
right, of course. It had been stupid to drop his wand.

As Harry stood, wand out, in the Great Hall waiting for the evening’s lesson to start, he found
himself looking up at the clear evening sky. He was distracted by a strange clattering echoing
through the entrance hall.

A knight in an old and extremely battered suit of armour jogged into the great hall and came to
a stop in front of Harry. It raised its visor. The suit of armour was empty but none-the-less armed
with a long sword, shield, dagger and a mace.

Flitwick piped, “Good evening, Harry. I thought you might like to practise against a
*physical* opponent tonight.”

Before Harry could respond the suit of armour jumped into action, slamming its visor shut and
drawing its sword. It lunged at Harry who, only just in time, dodged out of the way.

Regaining some of his composure, Harry rained a series of spells against the suit of armour as
it crashed around the hall, swinging something lethal at him at every opportunity. Although various
bits of armour flew off, it was still effective and kept attacking.

Finally a well aimed reductor curse blew the armour’s sword arm clean off.

Harry stopped.

The knight didn’t.

Throwing his shield at Harry, he grabbed his mace and threw several wild swings. Harry had to
make several desperate dodges.

Harry managed to catch the knight with another reductor curse on its shoulder. The armour
exploded and various assorted plates few about.

Harry was surprised to hear clapping and cheering. He turned to see they had an audience and
they had burst into applause at that moment. It looked like the noise he and the knight made had
attracted quite a few onlookers who must have gradually ventured into the hall through the great
doors that Flitwick had again left open.

Harry gave an embarrassed smile and Flitwick, with a flamboyant swish of his wand, caused the
suit of armour to reassemble itself. The knight then promptly did a low bow to the audience and
walked over to the entrance of the hall. They cheered the knight even more than they had for Harry
who too was laughing.

Professor Flitwick held up his hands for quiet and then
said, “You may stay to watch if you wish but for safety’s sake please come no further into the hall
than where our good knight is standing. Okay?”

Everyone except Harry and Professor Flitwick moved safety behind the knight, who was now going
up and down doing some rather strange and distracting walk, occasionally pretending to attack any
student who dared to get too close to the invisible line he was guarding.

Without warning Flitwick turned and in one silent movement sent a red stunning curse towards
Harry.

“*Protego*!” Harry shouted and the curse rebounded. He had been expecting Flitwick to
attack without warning.

Before Harry had a chance to look up to check if the lantern was in place, Flitwick had sent
curse after curse at Harry which he successfully avoided or blocked. For a full ten minutes Harry
and Flitwick duelled circling each other around the hall. Neither gave any quarter.

They stopped only when the lantern high above glowed bright red for a moment and then went out.
Flitwick lowered his wand and at the same time raised his other hand to Harry who nodded back at
him. He didn’t think he could have carried on anyway. He was tiring quickly.

Panting, Harry looked over to where the knight still paced. Their audience had not clapped and
cheered this time. They each looked subdued and thoughtful. It took Harry a moment to realise
why.

Professor Flitwick went over to them and indicated for Harry to join him. As they approached the
knight sprang to one side and gave an exaggerated salute. The students gathered around looking
grave.

“Professor, I’ve never seen duelling like that,” said a Fourth year. “Is that how the Death
Eaters fight?”

Flitwick spoke gently.

“Death Eaters are known for their cruelty. They will not duel or be fair in any way to an
opponent. They will use any advantage to win and that includes using Dark Magic.” He paused and
then continued, “Harry here is learning to defend himself better. With the return of You-Know-Who
and his supporters, we must expect more attacks and more atrocities. The more prepared we can be
the better.”

As Flitwick spoke, Harry looked around the students. None of these people were involved with the
DA, and a good few of them were Slytherins.

Professor Flitwick nodded briefly to Harry and exited the hall, closely followed by the clanking
Knight carrying the Duelling Lantern.

Harry then spoke.

“Last year some of us formed a group to practise Defence Against the Dark Arts. That is why
Umbridge and Fudge banned all the school groups last year. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore gave me
permission to do the same thing this year. If anyone wants to learn some defence I will teach them
whatever I can. This offer is open to *everyone*. This is *not* a House thing. The single
condition I will insist on is that all participants must swear they stand against the Dark Arts and
Vol-, sorry, I mean, You-Know-Who.”

Harry looked around the students. Some had a frightened look but most were nodding slightly with
grim determination. Looking towards the back of the group he caught the eye of Hermione who was
grinning at him with pride. He had no idea she was there and felt a slight blush cross his face as
he smiled back.



17. Unexpected Guests
---------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 17: Unexpected Guests**

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun.”

“No.”

“Why not? I *want* to.”

“No.”

Harry was getting annoyed now. Harry had been arguing with Ginny and her “twin” for five minutes
now.

“It was my idea. It will be good practice. Everyone needs to practice, don’t they?”

Harry looked at Jen and sighed. “Look, for the final time, NO!”

Ginny raised her eyebrows and Harry thought he should continue before she had a chance to say
anything. He addressed Jen.

“Why not? *One*. You can’t leave Gryffindor Tower.

“*Two*. You are not a dark creature, not anymore.

“*Three*. You can’t defend yourself.

“*Four*. I will hex *anyone* who so much as aims a wand at you, even if you were
stupid enough to ask them to.”

Harry turned back to Ginny but could have sworn he saw Jen give her a wink as he did so. Ginny
fought a smile. Jen went over to the fireplace where a group of Second Years were chatting
happily.

“Ginny, if you really want to practice you can always aim at me.”

“Thanks Harry,” Ginny replied, “but I only wanted to get her back and she suggested a duel. I
wasn’t really going to shoot at her.”

“What did she do?”

“Well, she’s been impersonating me and quite a few other girls and going up to boys and, well,
teasing them. Telling them things.”

Harry sighed. “I’m really sorry, Ginny. I’ll have a word with her. You know, I actually thought
that was *you* doing that.”

“Well, sometimes it *was*,” admitted Ginny with a wry smile as she went over to join her
friends, leaving Harry standing there dumbfounded.

*

Harry stood facing Ron in the Room of Requirement. All around them was strewn the debris from
their duel. They were surrounded by books, smashed shelves and burst cushions.

Harry was reaching the end of his tether.

He’d been giving Ron extra duelling lessons for what seemed ages now.

“You’re just too quick, Harry.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry replied through gritted teeth. This wasn’t getting them anywhere.

He walked forward, as did Ron.

“What’s the problem?” Harry asked gently. “You were never this bad at aiming before. You almost
look preoccupied.”

Ron pocketed his wand, noticing that Harry wasn’t even carrying his. He’d just been dodging and
seriously considering punching some sense into Ron.

Ron sighed. “Great, I can’t even beat you when you’re unarmed,” he said dejectedly.

“It’s not about beating me. It’s about defending yourself properly.”

“It’s just…”

Harry waited.

“Look,” said Ron trying to explain himself. “Dumbledore
has been teaching you defence himself this year, hasn’t he? You’ve also got free access to the
Restricted Section too.”

“You’d rather I let someone else duel with you? I would, except I can’t think of anyone you’d be
fairly matched against.”

“I keep thinking you’re going to hex me with something really dark.”

Harry was about to say, “*I will if you don’t buck your ideas up*,” but he caught himself
in time.

“It’s true, I have been learning some pretty dark things this year, although Dumbledore has
refused to teach me those. He’s placed some fairly severe restrictions on me too. Hermione’s the
only one I can compare notes with and I’m forbidden to teach even her what I know.”

Ron looked up at him.

“Basically, the moment Dumbledore finds out I’ve used or taught dark magic, I’m toast. You know
he’s been using Snape to try and provoke me?”

Ron nodded slightly.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Harry. “Something that might make you want to fight properly. Let’s
finish for this evening, but you should expect no mercy next time.”

*

A few days later, Harry and Ron faced each other again in the miraculously restored Room of
Requirement.

Harry had been waiting for Ron.

“Ready?” asked Harry with a cold smile.

“Suppose,” mumbled Ron, unenthusiastically.

Harry waiting for Ron to assume his duelling stance and then said, “You call it.”

Ron took a deep steadying breath, and said, “On three. One. Two. *Three*!”

Harry shouted, “*Accio*!”

His invisibility cloak flew off to reveal a chair in front of Ron upon which sat a bound and
gagged Luna. She was sitting totally relaxed, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Harry threw the cloak safely to one side and fired a carefully aimed stunner at Ron. It just
missed Luna’s head, her long blonde hair flying up.

Ron yelled, “*Stop*!” and ran around, placing himself between Harry and Luna.
Unfortunately, Harry had by then moved.

Harry’s stinging hex flew under the chair catching both Ron and Luna in the back of their legs.
Luna winced loudly and Ron turned to her in shock, ignoring his own pain.

Harry’s next stunner was returned by Ron’s use of a Protego shield. Harry easily dodged it and
fired, again deliberately aiming for Luna.

Ron was getting angry now.

Thankfully, he turned his anger to good use rather than just panicking. Gradually his hexes
became stronger and more accurate.

Then, at long last, Ron anticipated Harry’s movement and caught him with a stunner. It wasn’t
strong, but it was a good start.

“Ha!” yelled Harry, easily disarming Ron so he knew their little practice session was over.

“Well done, Ron. I see we hit a nerve.”

Ron was fuming. It would take him a while to forgive Harry for what he’d just done. Luna had
insisted that Harry actually fire at her to make it look real.

“You okay, Luna?”

“Oh, yes,” she said casually, the knot of her gag having been charmed to untie itself as soon as
she wanted to speak. “It was most exciting. I told you Ronald could do it if he wanted to.”

“Need a hand with those bindings?” asked Harry.

“No thanks,” she replied looking up at Ron. “We’ll manage.”

Harry collected his cloak and left the two of them alone.

*

“No invisibility cloak this time?” asked Hermione with a grin.

“Sorry, I left it behind,” replied Harry.

They were circling each other in the Room of Requirement. Harry realised from her banter that
Hermione was becoming much more confident.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, tricking Ron like that.”

“It worked though.”

“Who’s going to be under the cloak when you test Ginny?”

Harry snorted despite himself.

Ginny had been practicing rather a lot with Neville lately. He had no idea, but Ron had
apparently caught them “reviving” each other after a session in this very room. Or at least, that’s
what they claimed to be doing. Ron had consulted Harry over whether this might not have been true.
Much to Neville’s relief, Harry had confirmed that sometimes people needed to be revived without
magic. Ron was still clearly suspicious, though, especially when Harry forbad Ron from reviving
him, ever.

Hermione fired at once, taking full advantage of his lack of concentration.

Harry’s Protego shield rebounded her stunners just in time.

“Not bad,” he admitted.

Hermione smiled a calculating smile. She clearly wasn’t done yet.

They exchanged a few more stunners, but Harry knew this was just to warm up. Both of them easily
blocked and dodged.

Hermione stepped sideways and then quickly reversed. She appeared to trip over her own feat and
fell to her knees giving a convincing wince of pain.

Harry almost believed this wasn’t a feint, but the barrage of spells that followed were
incredibly intense.

Harry could actually feel the impact of the range of spells against his shield. He actually
struggled to maintain the shield this time. Hermione was aiming carefully so she didn’t have to
dodge her own reflected spells and could concentrate on firing quickly.

Soon, though, Hermione tired. Harry aimed and returned fire, his spells blasting Hermione’s own
shield. He was amazed she could resist the power of his hexes.

Feeling himself weaken, Harry ended his volley with a final stunner aimed at the ceiling.
Hermione hadn’t expected that. The red stunner bounced off the ceiling and hit her. It had just
cleared the top of her forward facing shield.

Harry stumbled over and collapsed next to her. Hermione was still conscious but clearly as
exhausted as he was. She lay on her back, panting with a smile on her face.

Harry grinned at her and asked, “You okay?”

Hermione smiled back and nodded.

“I thought I could get you when you tired of firing spells. I wasn’t expecting you to get past
my shield.”

“It almost worked,” said Harry, wiping sweat from his brow. “That’s enough for tonight. We need
a bath!”

“Honestly, Harry. What are you like?” she asked with a grin. “What would Jen say?”

Harry didn’t think he had the energy to blush. He was wrong.

*

A couple of days later, Harry was returning to Gryffindor Tower. It was gone two o’clock in the
morning and he had just come back from the library, having found some more useful things in the
Restricted Section. He wasn’t carrying a bag as Madam Pince had persuaded him to keep his notes in
the restricted section in case anyone found them and was tempted to have a go.

As he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, he thought he heard something behind him. He
turned quickly and drew his wand. Harry listened intently.

Ahead out of the darkness he heard a dull thud followed by an urgent panicked whisper, “What
have you done?! What are we going to do now? He’ll kill us!”

“*Lumos*!” Harry spoke and a strange scene lit up before him.

On the floor of the corridor was Draco Malfoy, clearly unconscious. Huddled over him were Crabbe
and Goyle who briefly looking up at Harry but soon turned their attention back to Malfoy.

To Harry’s surprise, Crabbe took charge of the situation. “Greg, go back to the common room and
get Pansy. Don’t tell her anything, just bring her. Tell no-one else and bring no-one else. And
take this thing back with you. Got it?”

Crabbe handed a long, lethal looking silver dagger to Goyle who nodded and with a last fearful
look at Malfoy, hurried off.

“Potter, I…” Crabbe began but stopped and appeared to think a different approach was called for.
He cleared his throat and began again.

“Harry, *I* knocked Draco out. We need somewhere private to talk to him when he comes
round. Somewhere the other Slytherins won’t find him. They’ll be looking now.”

Harry was startled for a moment. Not only had Crabbe spoken to him civilly, he also sounded like
he had some intelligence. Somehow this seemed more shocking than the fact that Draco was apparently
going to try and kill him.

“Can we use your common room? It’s late, there won’t be anyone there at this hour. You can
change the password after. *Please*. We don’t have long.”

Harry considered this request. *Was it a trick?*

When he heard the Fat Lady’s portrait swing open. Hermione climbed out and he decided as soon as
he saw her.

*Hermione wanted unity between all the houses. Unity starts with trust.*

She looked initially surprised when Harry pocketed his wand and went over to help Crabbe.
Together they dragged Malfoy into the common room and dumped him on the rug in front of the fire
which was glowing with its last embers.

By the time Crabbe took Malfoy’s wand out from his pocket and handed it to Hermione, she had a
look that told Harry she was going to make the most of this opportunity.

“Please take this and hide it in the girl’s dormitory so Draco can’t get it for a bit.
*Please*. We are going to need it back though. Please make sure nothing happens to it.”

Hermione took the wand and immediately rushed upstairs to hide it. She returned almost
immediately and Crabbe then explained what had happened.

“Draco here has been plotting against you, Harry,” he said calmly. “This year especially he has
cooked up an extraordinary number of schemes to get you into trouble. Up to now it’s always been
stupid juvenile stuff. Harmless really. Unlucky too,” he looked up with a smirk, “somehow Greg and
I usually find a way to mess things up for him before someone gets really hurt.”

Harry wondered at the thought that Crabbe and Goyle had been his guardian angels. It had been
true though, aside from his usual insults, Malfoy had been unusually inactive this year. With
everything Harry was involved with, he hadn’t noticed.

“But tonight was different?” he asked.

“Tonight was different. You know, I really didn’t think he would go through with it. Usually if
there’s a chance of getting into trouble, he gets *us* to do it. All the way here we tried
dissuading him. He *thinks* he wants to avenge his father. Strange really, since they both
loath each other.”

Hermione crossed over the room and crawled out through the portrait hole. Outside she found
Goyle and Pansy Parkinson and beckoned them inside to the common room.

Pansy climbed through and went straight over to check on Malfoy. “Stupid. Stupid,” she muttered
kneeling next him. Then she asked abruptly, “Where’s his wand?”

“I put it upstairs,” said Hermione.

“Good. Okay, I’m going to wake Draco in a moment so we can talk to him,” she stood and looked
directly at Harry. “Let’s agree a couple of things first though.”

She was interrupted by a sleepy Ron who had come down the stairs. “What in Merlin’s name are you
lot doing here? Get out now!”

“Shh, Ron!” said Hermione.

“Don’t Shh me!”

“Can we lock those doors?” asked Crabbe.

Harry, who had been thinking the exact same thing said, “Yes, in a moment.” He wasn’t sure he
wanted Ron to stay.

Pansy went on. “When Draco wakes, he will be afraid and feeling vulnerable, especially waking up
here. He will say things, probably do things and throw things that some will find upsetting. I want
your assurance that no Gryffindor will respond. No insults back at him and certainly no action
against him. He doesn’t have a wand but if he needs to be restrained it would be better in the
longer term if *we* do it.”

“Agreed,” said Harry and Hermione without hesitation at the same time.

Ron had spluttered, “No way.”

“Let’s also agree,” continued Pansy, ignoring Ron, “that if any Gryffindor speaks out of turn or
acts contrary to our agreement then *you*, not us, will deal with them.”

Ron looked indignantly around the room as both Harry and Hermione nodded.

Hermione went up to him and spoke gently. “Ron, this is important. Are you sure you want to
stay?”

He looked at her coldly and drew out his wand. “I’m staying.”

Harry went up to each dormitory entrance door and sealed them closed with a strong colloportus
spell before returning down the stairs. Hermione, meanwhile, re-lit the common room lamps.

“Okay then,” and with some trepidation, Pansy pointed her wand at Draco and said,
“*Ennervate*.”

Draco groaned and moved slowly. For a moment he just rubbed his head, clearly trying to remember
what happened. Suddenly he jerked his head up looking furious and making the others jump.

Draco let rip a stream of expletives at Crabbe and Goyle. They looked away from him looking
fearful but Pansy sat patiently, waiting for him to stop.

When at last he did, she spoke. “Now you’ve got that out of your system, perhaps you’d like to
listen.”

“Which one of you hit me?” Draco growled. Hermione pocketed her wand.

“We had to stop you, Draco. This time you would have gone too far,” said Pansy. Harry was
impressed she said *we* when she clearly hadn’t been there.

“My father …” began Draco but Pansy cut him off.

“Your father is a servant of the Dark Lord, as are all our fathers. They made a choice. You have
a choice too, Draco,” she said calmly.

“Traitors. You are traitors,” Draco said shakily, close to tears. “Look at the company you are
keeping. How could you? This scum …”

“You know we’re not too keen on having you here either, mate. In fact why don’t you-”
interrupted Ron quickly, before Hermione could react. Ron stopped when Harry’s stunner hit him and
he fell unconscious to the floor.

“Err, sorry about that,” said Harry sheepishly.

Crabbe looked impressed for a moment and then returned is attention back to Draco.

“Draco, what are we traitors to? We just decided not to follow the world’s most evil Dark Lord
who would probably end up killing our families even it we did follow him.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t mean we don’t still hate Gryffindor,” piped up Goyle.

“Here! Here!” said Pansy, smiling and winking at Harry. But then her face became serious.

“Draco, we brought you here so you could be away from prying eyes for a short while. So you can
have a think. You now know that the three of us don’t think that Harry here to deserves be killed.
Stick with making him angry, making him loose house points and getting him into detention and we’ll
give you all the help you need.”

“Tonight you convinced yourself that killing Potter would avenge your father,” continued Crabbe.
“But that’s not why you tried, is it? You are convinced that the Dark Lord will be victorious this
time. You were afraid your father and the Dark Lord might doubt you. You know your father would not
hesitate to kill you if the Dark Lord ordered your death.”

“The Dark Lord will win,” Draco said dryly, staring down at the carpet. “Of course I’m afraid.
You should be too. No one will stop him.”

“*Everyone* is scared,” agreed Goyle.

“Your fear has clouded you judgement,” said Crabbe. “He probably kills more followers than
enemies. If he wins the odds of any of us surviving long can’t be good. Besides, if the Dark Lord
believed Potter was killed in his name without his actually giving the order …”

Draco gulped.

“Well Harry hasn’t been killed,” interrupted Pansy. “Rather more seriously, you also now know
that not all Slytherins are prepared to follow the Dark Lord. It’s true, we haven’t exactly
advertised our allegiances before now. I’m not going to beg you not to betray us to the Dark Lord’s
followers, Draco. But I do hope our friendship means something.”

“Are there many against You-Know-Who in Slytherin?” asked Hermione.

“More that you might think and fewer than we would like,” replied Pansy darkly. “A lot of people
are very afraid.”

From over in the corner they heard a low moan from Ron. Hermione calmly walked over and stunned
him again before he could get up.

Looking around apologetically, she said, “Sorry, but I thought it would be for the best. Please
sit down everybody. Draco, have that armchair, it’s the most comfortable.”



18. Ron the Hero
----------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 18: Ron the Hero**

For a long time Harry and Hermione sat in silence with their four Slytherin guests.

Harry quietly observed Draco and tried to imagine what he was feeling. Would he be brave enough
to turn away from his father, as his friends had done? He could see Draco looking around the
Gryffindor common room, as if searching for a sign.

As Harry looked on, suddenly Draco’s impassive face distorted with fear and he silently fell off
his chair. Pansy looked at him curiously and looked around to see what Draco had been looking
at.

Harry could understand Draco’s reaction, but was not alarmed. Jen, in her spider form, must have
still been in the common room. She had silently crossed the room and climbed over the back of the
settee where Pansy sat, in full view of Draco.

By the time Pansy looked around, she was facing her twin smiling down at her and gently touching
her shoulder.

“Hi,” Jen said brightly. “Sorry, I was dozing. It’s so nice to have company.”

“This is Jen. She’s been our guest this term,” Harry said. “Jen this is Pansy Parkinson, Gregory
Goyle, Vincent Crabbe and Draco Malfoy. They are visiting from Slytherin House.”

They each nodded as they were introduced apart from Draco who was still sitting on the floor
staring at her. Jen then crossed back across the room but quickly returned with a tray of
butterbeers which she proceeded to serve to everybody. Finishing with Harry, she answered his
quizzical look whispering, “The house elves sent them. I think the Fat Lady told them we had
company.”

Jen placed the tray on the floor and sat down next to Pansy who seemed quite transfixed to find
she suddenly had an identical twin. Goyle and Crabbe, who looked like they hadn’t seen Jen before
she transformed, were looking at Draco with mild concern.

“So the stories are true,” Pansy said simply.

A long pause followed and Harry decided to pick up the conversation.

“Have you considered joining our defence club?” asked Harry.

Draco snorted loudly.

“We are anti *Voldemort*, not anti Slytherin, you know!” retorted Hermione immediately. The
four of them had given horrible involuntary shudders as she spoke.

Pansy, composed herself quickest and said, “Well, we *did* try to form our own group.
Professor Snape agreed to teach us Slytherins some duelling techniques. The trouble is most people
took it as an opportunity to settle some old scores. Most of the time the sessions just ended in a
brawl.”

Draco was smiling to himself, presumably remembering some of the *old scores* that he had
settled.

“Well, perhaps we could arrange some private lessons. The others wouldn’t have to know
anything,” suggested Hermione hopefully, glancing over to Harry.

“You only have to ask,” said Harry but he missed Hermione’s warm smile at him.

“No,” said Pansy abruptly. “I mean, no thanks. If we do this, it has to be as part of a
non-house thing. It would be worse if someone found out …”

They were interrupted by a loud banging on one of the dormitory doors followed by a muffled moan
of frustration. All of them rose to their feet knowing that their meeting had come to an end.

“I’m sure we can find a way around Harry’s declaration requirement,” Hermione said
hurriedly.

Pansy shrugged and said, “Please make sure *he,*” she pointed over to Ron, “understands we
were never here tonight.”

They all moved towards the portrait hole and Hermione thanked them for coming and bid them warm
goodbyes individually. Crabbe and Goyle appeared genuinely abashed to hear her effortlessly address
them by their first names as if they had been friends for years. Even Draco managed to remain civil
and Pansy graciously thanked them for being their hosts.

When they had gone Harry went up and unsealed both the dormitory entrance doors. Whoever had
tried to come down had gone away again.

Harry rejoined Hermione and said gently, “Well, that was an interesting evening. Don’t forget we
have to return Malfoy’s wand.”

“That went well, don’t you think?” said Jen, still looking like Pansy. “We should definitely
invite more people from other Houses over!”

Hermione wasn’t listening.

“What do you think he’ll do?” she asked seriously.

They all turned when they heard a low moan from Ron.

*

To Harry’s relief, it took Ron some time to recover from the stunning spells he had received the
night before. Ron’s dazed state allowed Harry to get his best friend down to breakfast in the Great
Hall without too many problems.

Once there, however, Ron began to recover. He sat staring angrily at the plate of sausages,
bacon and eggs that Harry had piled up for him. Usually nothing could distract Ron from
breakfast.

Harry sighed. “Look Ron, I’m really sorry about last night. It’s just …”

“I just cannot believe you did that,” Ron said shakily and Harry knew he was about to loose his
temper. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring Ron down to the Great Hall.

Just at that moment Luna rushed up and sat on the other side of Ron.

“Ronald! I’m so proud of you!”

“Er, what?” asked Ron, clearly wrong footed.

“Hermione just told me. She said she couldn’t give any details but that thanks to you we stand a
good chance of getting some of the Slytherins to join some of the defence groups and maybe persuade
some of them not to support You-Know-Who!” she said in an excited whisper as Harry fought to keep
his face straight.

For a moment Harry thought Ron would just explode.

However, Ron’s weak attempts to deny he had done any such thing were quickly exhausted and in
the end he appeared to accept Luna’s assertions that he must have made a heroic sacrifice.

Hermione sat down next to Harry. He smiled to her and mouthed, “Thanks,” to her as Luna prattled
on, oblivious to anyone else.

*

Hermione gave a great sigh of frustration. She and a somewhat muddy Harry were down in front of
Hagrid’s house showing Dumbledore their progress, or rather *lack* of progress, at wand-less
magic.

Harry had just made his own attempt. Without meaning to, he had managed to rip a sizeable area
of turf, complete with roots and a good deal of topsoil, out of the ground. Ducking as it flew over
his head, he had turned just in time to see a surprised Hagrid catch it. The stick he was trying to
summon remained, of course, in the hole left behind.

They had been practising whenever they could but the best time had been on Thursday afternoons
when they both had a free study period. Harry found he still couldn’t control what he was doing but
he was making progress now. *If he ever needed to summon mud and dirt he was sorted!* The
objects Hermione had tried to summon had wobbled a little but that was all.

Hermione had been uncharacteristically nervous about the prospect of performing magic under the
critical eye of Dumbledore.

“You just need to relax a little,” said Dumbledore kindly. “Stand in front of us so there are no
distractions.” Behind her back he drew his wand and with a small wave Harry noticed a quiet descend
on them. Harry looked over to Hagrid sitting on his front steps. Hagrid gave him a knowing smile
and a small nod.

“Concentrate. Reach out with your mind. Just think what you would do with a wand in your hand.
Just imagine the movements and think the incantation.”

Suddenly the small branch a few feet in front of Hermione jumped up and flew to her. Catching it
she yelled, “Hah!” as Hagrid and Harry cheered.

“Very good indeed, Hermione. I want you both to practice hard. This is just the first stage but
mastering simple things like this will help train your mind so you can learn close transfiguration.
With hard work it will come.”

Hermione looked at him doubtfully.

“You have seen for yourself that you have this ability. It would be unusual for someone who
applies herself with such mental discipline *not* to have some wand-less ability. Harry here,
has been performing wand-less magic, for some time. In his case, however, he rarely knows what will
happen or how he did it.”

Hagrid managed to stifle a short snigger.

“The point is you can give yourselves an advantage but it will require hard work. Hermione, you
will find it difficult to perform wand-less magic when you are emotional or stressed. Harry, you on
the other hand perform best when you *are* emotional and stressed. Your challenge is to
control and direct your abilities and not rely on your subconscious.”

They both nodded.

“It can take decades to become truly proficient. Many witches or wizards resort to amulets and
the like to help them *channel* the magic. Neither of you need such focusing aids nor do you
need to become expert in the short term, although I am sure that will come later.”

Hagrid interjected at that point saying “Yeah, but if you ever find yourself away from yer wand,
y’know, bound or shackled and wot-not, you’ll to ‘ave a chance to get free on your own.”

“Professor Dumbledore, why are there wards in the castle to prevent us practising inside?” asked
Hermione.

“Ah, I’m afraid the house elves insisted. Some time ago a student decided to show off by
summoning their wand to them. Unfortunately they were a little off and managed to uproot several
trees of the same species that the wand was made from. The trees stomped around the castle for
hours and made quite a mess, and you know *I think*,” he added with a smile, “I still owe
quite a few detentions for that.”

Hermione just looked at him shocked while Harry burst out laughing.

Dumbledore answered her unasked question.

“Well, I got a few more detentions after and they lost count after a while.”



19. The Moving Target
---------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 19: The Moving Target**

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the common room in their favourite arm chairs by the fire. Ron
was dozing. Harry felt a tiredness beyond sleep and he was sure Hermione must be tired too.

Harry learned to enjoy the few times they could sit and just relax. Most of their time was now
spent receiving or giving extra defence lessons and Harry now rivalled Hermione for library time
since he now had access to the restricted section.

Unlike Harry and Ron, however, Hermione had also kept up to date with all her coursework.

Hermione smiled and looked over as a Jen’s loud laugh erupted from across the room. Jen loved
hearing jokes, the worse the better it seemed.

Hermione looked back to Harry and said, “I was asking Jen about herself earlier. I told her I
could find hardly anything about her people in the library. She was quite chatty until I asked what
really happened when you met.”

Harry looked at Hermione but said nothing.

“She said I should ask you.”

Again, Harry said nothing.

“When I asked when Jen would need to feed again, she answered without thinking and then she
changed the subject. I couldn’t get her to say anymore.”

Harry looked down. Hermione pushed on.

“She said she wouldn’t feed again. Is Jen *really* getting better?” asked Hermione in a
whisper.

“Well,” Harry began quietly, feeling at last he would have to tell Hermione. *No, Jen was not
getting better. It was his fault.*

At that moment Ron woke with a start and Harry lost his nerve.

“How about a game of chess?” asked Harry, not daring to look at Hermione.

*

Harry and Ron were the last to leave their dormitory next morning. Harry sat down on his bed
facing Ron, having decided what he would do.

“Ron, could I ask you a favour?”

“Sure, anything,” said Ron, who looked surprised Harry needed to ask.

“Sit down a moment. I need to ask you something.”

Ron sat and looked a Harry with a curious expression on his face.

“Last year, the night when Sirius died, Dumbledore told me some things. Things about my past and
You-Know-Who.”

“You didn’t say the name,” said Ron seriously.

“That’s because this is important. Dumbledore said I could tell those I trust. Ron, I want to
ask you two things. The first is whether you really want to know this secret. People have died for
this and more may follow.”

Harry leaned forward and said quietly, “If I tell you this, you must swear never to reveal this
secret to anyone. *Anyone*. Even an accidental mention in anger or a forgetful word could have
fatal consequences. Do not answer me now. Think very carefully about it first.”

They sat in silence for a while before Harry continued.

“The second thing concerns Hermione. She and I are going to have this same conversation. The
thing is, she is going to freak.”

“And some,” agreed Ron with a smile.

“I need you to be understanding and supportive. No petty arguments for a while, until she calms
down. It may take some time.”

Ron snorted.

“You should know that I’m not going to tell her everything. I trust her but some of it will just
do her head in. I need you to help her. She’ll know I’ll have told you and there’s a good chance
she will come to interrogate you. For her sake, Ron, no questions, no answers, no hints, no
jokes.”

*

Harry‘s first session as an honorary junior sub-assistant Slytherin defence coach, or “Moving
Target,” according to Draco Malfoy, probably went better than he should have hoped.

Although Pansy had wanted to try and do something non-Slytherin, it soon became clear that few
people were prepared to be associated with such a group, even on the quiet. Harry had agreed to
help, though, and the whole anti-Voldemort stance was quietly ignored for the present.

In truth, Harry hadn’t been too keen on this but Hermione had said it would at least give him an
opportunity to reach out to them.

The turn out was, Harry felt, rather good all considering. About twenty or so people had
attended the first session, including many that had seen him duel with Professor Flitwick.

Malfoy had decided that he should take full credit for reorganising their defence club, although
Harry knew that Pansy had done all the recruiting and had persuaded Snape to allow them use of an
unused dungeon classroom.

Of course, Malfoy promoted the club as an anti-*Gryffindor* defence club.

Malfoy had also insisted upon teaching the group personally, picking inexperienced lower year
students to humiliate before randomly going around and stunning people while they practised,
usually with their backs to him.

Pansy had pleaded with Harry not to interfere too much and instead he satisfied himself quietly
walking around the practising pairs giving encouragement and advice. Soon he was being asked to
show them much more advanced defence, quickly becoming recognised as the far better teacher.

Harry found that attending had been good for himself as well. Hermione had told him it would.
The main benefit was getting to know these Slytherins better. Gradually he saw them as people who
were just as much in fear of Voldemort as everyone else.

Malfoy had promised the group that, at the end of the two hour session, he would personally duel
with Harry and show him a thing or two.

However, when it actually came to it, Malfoy appeared to want to let Harry off this time. It may
have had something to do with some of the demonstrations Harry was giving.

“I’ll duel with you!” said Pansy enthusiastically, walking out to the centre.

They had previously agreed to duel if no-one else wanted to. Harry had even agreed to fight
properly and not allow an easy defeat as he’d offered her. Harry felt it might be better if he
lost, at least the first time.

From the reaction of their audience, Harry realised that Pansy was probably better at duelling
than she had let on.

For the first few minutes, Harry kept stopping and showing Pansy and everyone else some of her
basic errors. It was mainly small things like stance, wand grip and incantation timing that could
make a difference. Harry explained the weakness and what could happen for the benefit of
everyone.

He even forgot they were in the middle of a duel at one point, when he got everyone to practice
the defensive stance he’d just shown Pansy. As he congratulated the group he suddenly remembered
and turned back to Pansy to apologise. She just grinned at him and invited him to carry on.

They finished with a proper duel with no interruptions, baring all the cheering.

As Harry grimaced, struggling to maintain his shield while Pansy barraged him with spells from a
wide assortment of angles, he realised that Pansy was indeed rather better than she had let on.

Harry shifted his shield and Pansy was forced to dive out of the way of her own deflected hexes.
Harry fired a short burst of stunners and finally caught her with an impediment jinx and another
stunner.

He quickly went over to her to check she was alright. His wand still covering her, he reached
down with his free hand.

The moment he touched her shoulder, Harry was thrown onto his back. What felt like electric
shocks buzzed up and down his body.

Pansy, even though she had been unconscious, had beaten him by placing some kind of charge on
herself at the last moment.

As Harry sat up to find a laughing Pansy sitting up next to him, he realised he could learn as
much from them as he could teach.

He was also struck by how she laughed. He had never heard this warm laugh from her before, one
that was relaxed and amongst friends.

*

A week later, Ron and Harry found they were again the last to leave their dormitory once again.
This time, however, Harry was rushing to get his things together and Ron was sitting on his bed
looking pensive.

“Harry, I’ve decided.”

Harry stopped and sat down on his bed. They had not spoken about this matter since although he
knew Ron had given a lot of thought to it.

“Harry,” Ron began again, “I’ve decided *not* to hear the secret. Not right now anyway. I’m
glad you trust me enough to tell, but the truth is I’m afraid I might let on something. You may
have noticed I have a tendency to say things without thinking.” He looked down, not wanting to meet
Harry’s eyes. “I have a feeling it is something You-Know-Who would benefit from rather than
something that can be used against him. What did Hermione decide?”

“I do trust you, you know,” said Harry, not answering Ron’s question. “Remember, if anyone ever
asks you about this or wants to talk about it, then you will know they won’t know anything and
shouldn’t be trusted.” He got up and they left for class.

Inwardly, Harry was glad with Ron’s decision. He also found a new admiration for his best
friend. At one time Ron could not have resisted the chance to satisfy his curiosity.

Harry had actually told Hermione everything before he had even approached Ron. She was the first
one he’d told, much to Jen’s approval.

With some discomfort, Harry had suggested, and Hermione had agreed, how he should tackle Ron. To
his relief she had agreed with his suggestion. He did not want to lie to Ron. He still felt more
than a little guilty that they had concocted a special edited version that he would have told Ron.
They had another for Neville. Luna and Ginny would separately be told more or less the whole truth
if they wished to hear it.

Hermione had not *freaked out*. Harry had not really expected her to and he was so pleased
he was able to tell her everything. Well, everything to do with the prophecy, anyway.

He had told her the evening they’d walked down to the lake inside her trunk. He was glad to be
confiding in Hermione again, and that helped him even though he wasn’t ready to acknowledge
everything just yet. He knew Hermione realised there was more, but she didn’t push him.

Hermione had listened impassably to Harry as he told her as they walked up and down the
lakeside. When he had finished her eyes looked red and only a single tear fell down her cheek. He
had expected her to be a little emotional when she heard everything. Hermione had a habit of coming
at him when he least expected her to, and Harry had been so sure she would again then.

He felt more than a slight disappointment when she did not.

It was true, however, that he did rather tire of her later insistence that he should recite the
full prophecy to her what seemed an endless number of times. In the end she headed off to the
Headmaster’s office for a first hand account.

She appeared to be looking for a loophole.



20. Hermione’s Admonishment
---------------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 20: Hermione’s Admonishment**

Truth be told, Harry had been rather pleased with his first draft letter to Hermione’s parents,
even though it had taken him ages to write during the odd snatched period he had free.

He had known that there had been no chance of her letting him send it, even as he began to write
the first few paragraphs.

Knowing this, Harry had decided to try and write down some of his feelings during the events
that happened. Very soon, it became a letter to Hermione, saying all those things he never managed
to say before. It was a very long letter and he worked hard at it over many hours late into the
evenings.

Jen had been very sceptical about what Harry was hoping to achieve with the letter. She kept on
with her gentle pleadings for him to just talk to Hermione. If he was honest, Harry didn’t really
know himself.

However, as Harry wrote, something rather profound dawned upon him. He had always appreciated
Hermione but had never felt it necessary to say this to her. After all, *she knew*, didn’t
she? Harry had realised, albeit rather late in his view, that he had been wrong. He should have
told her just how much he valued her.

As Hermione read that first letter when they alone in the common room late at night, he
gradually saw her face redden. After the first few paragraphs she had got up and sat close to him
and he could almost feel her emotions as she continued to read.

He had written about Sirius too, and some of the hurt and guilt he had felt, but Harry’s main
emphasis had been Hermione herself.

Hermione read the letter in silence from start to finish, and as she finished she blinked back
her tears.

“It’s all true you know,” Harry said gently.

She shook her head, wiping her face.

“I take it you want me to re-write the letter,” he said smiling. Hermione laughed shakily and
nodded.

She offered the letter back to him but he refused saying, “No, I wrote it for you.”

*

Harry and Hermione were in the library at a table in the Restricted Section. He was grinning at
her and she was avoiding his eye.

They had been having a good-natured and whispered argument, again, about the latest draft of
Harry’s letter to her parents.

“Tell me which bits are untrue or exaggerated and I’ll take them out,” Harry whispered at
last.

Harry had rejected Hermione’s comments on his second draft. Actually, she had re-written that
one herself. Harry had objected to this version completely as she made it sound like she wasn’t
even at the Department of Mysteries!

It was now clear that Hermione would never allow Harry’s letter to be sent in a form he would
find remotely acceptable. Harry decided then he would have to play dirty, and enlist Ron’s
help.

Although he had abandoned any thought of actually sending any letter, Harry had continued to
redraft. He found he enjoyed having the excuse to talk over and relive their past adventures from
this new perspective. He particularly liked taking the opportunity to tell Hermione to her face how
he admired her actions, but he now felt she wouldn’t allow him to do this much more.

He reached over gently, took the scroll from her hands and tore it in two.

“No more drafts then,” he said in a whisper and Hermione shook her head slightly. “You know? I
didn’t write all these just to embarrass you. I just wanted you to know how special you are. I know
I haven’t said it to you often enough.”

*

*Dear Mr & Mrs Granger,*

*Harry wanted to write to you to give you an explanation of what happened at the end of last
year. He was daft enough to promise Hermione that he wouldn’t send the letter until she was happy
with the contents. Needless to say, Harry abandoned this after the umpteenth draft, so I am writing
instead.*

*I am given to understand that Hermione has kept the first draft of Harry’s letter, the one
Harry intended you to receive, in her trunk.*

*I just wanted to forewarn you in case you happen to come across it while cleaning!*

*Merry Christmas!*

*Kind regards,*

*Ron Weasley*

*PS Hermione, if you’re reading this, Harry made me write this!*

*PPS Harry says Hi and is sure that Hermione will understand when she has calmed down a
bit!*

*

This year most people were spending the Christmas holidays with their families, keen to spend as
much time together as possible now that Death Eater activity was increasing. Although Harry would
have liked to spend time with Hermione, he was glad her parents insisted that she spend Christmas
at home with them.

Harry had stayed at Hogwarts keeping Jen company, and with a little encouragement she had begun
to explore the castle.

Just after Boxing Day, Pansy had arrived back earlier than expected and had insisted upon
inviting Jen for tea in the Slytherin common room. News got around quickly, even considering the
few students staying, and soon she was invited to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms too.
Harry was sure this had to be some kind of a record and although he was glad she was making new
friends, he was concerned that all this activity was taking so much out of her. Jen would tire
easily, especially after transforming into each of her hosts in turn.

Finally, Jen, Pansy and Harry quietly welcomed in the New Year together in the Gryffindor common
room.

Thanks to Ron’s letter, Harry had spent most of his Christmas holiday in a state of high
anxiety.

The days crawled by for Harry, until finally the end of the holiday arrived and everyone
returned to the school.

*

Harry and Ron were sat playing chess in the common room. Harry realised he had completely lost
the plot of the game and looked up to see Ron still smirking at him.

“Shut up and move.”

“I didn’t say anything and it’s still your move,” Ron replied laughing.

It had been Ron’s idea to wait up in the common room rather than greet Hermione when she
returned after spending the Christmas holidays with her parents. Harry had taken Ron’s point that
if she was mad at him it would be less embarrassing here than in front of the whole school.

“Oh, well …” Harry started to say but then jerked around as he heard the portrait hole open
again.

It was only Lavender.

*Yet another false alarm.*

He was getting more nervous with each one.

He turned back, still annoyed at Ron, who had insisted on their current seating arrangements,
making him the one having to turn around to see who had entered.

“Hello, Hermione! Good break?” said Ron brightly.

Harry had fallen for that trick three times already and wasn’t about to do it again.

“Hello!” said Hermione, from behind Harry’s shoulder. He jumped in total surprise, lost his
balance and promptly fell off his chair.

Harry was about to get up when he caught Hermione’s eye. She wore an unreadable expression and
he decided it might be safer to remain on the floor for a bit.

Hermione calmly reached down, pulled his chair upright and sat. Harry looked down at the
carpet.

*Say something*, he thought, *anything*.

Dimly, Harry became aware that Ron and Hermione were talking, exchanging pleasantries. When the
talking had stopped, Harry looked up. Ron had gone over to the other side of the room and Hermione
was looking down at him.

Harry said the thing that was foremost in his mind, “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She paused before answering. Harry’s entire attention was focussed on Hermione at that
moment.

“You should know, Harry, that I was very annoyed with you.”

“Was?” he said, with a small grin.

She looked away.

He was sure the corners of her mouth had just twitched.

“Get off the floor, Harry.”

His grin grew wider with this admonishment, but he decided to stay on the floor a while
longer.

“Did they see the letter?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I showed my parents the letter,” she answered in a whisper. “It helped, really. We talked
about a lot of things. I think they were glad to hear the truth and I was glad to … well, talk
things through.”

She turned back to him.

“Thank you for your present, Harry. It’s really beautiful,” she said drawing her hand over her
heart.

He had given her a necklace and pendant. Harry had found it after a long and desperate search of
the shops in Hogsmeade and Hedwig had delivered it to her on Christmas morning.

“Hedwig’s flying back on her own,” Hermione continued. “I’m afraid we spoiled her a bit while
she stayed, but she was very good company. Dad even made a perch for her in my bedroom when it was
clear she didn’t want to leave.”

Harry thought back. The last thing he’d said to her on Christmas morning was, “Just make sure
she’s safe.”

*

Harry was dragging a reluctant Ron back to Gryffindor tower so they could dump their bags and go
off down to dinner.

Ron was in a bad mood.

“Why did you stop me? That scum had no right to say those things. I’d have thought that you’d
…”

“You *know* why, Ron. How do you think Jen or Hermione would react if they found out a
Prefect had hexed someone just because they said a few stupid insults. Look, when you’ve calmed
down you can give them a detention and dock some house points. You’ll feel better then.”

“Well, that’d do until an opportunity with fewer witnesses comes along, eh?”

Harry sighed. “Are they worth it, really? They’ve being saying stuff like that for ages and so
far Jen hasn’t found out.”

Ron had stopped again and was about to respond when Ginny ran up to them.

Harry felt a dull burning pain down one side that gave him an ominous feeling.

“Jen. Hurt. Come quick!” gasped Ginny.

Harry did not wait for explanations and immediately took off at a run for the Gryffindor common
room.



21. An Accident
---------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 21: An Accident**

Scrambling through the portrait hole, Harry quickly took in what was happening. Dark scorch
marks were to be seen on the ceiling, walls and floor carpet and there was an unfamiliar burning
smell that hung in the air. Over to one side, Hermione was yelling at an ashamed looking group of
Third years who were cowering before her wrath. By the fire, a small group of girls were huddled
around a chair, surrounded by others who stood wearing concerned expressions.

Harry went over to the fire and found Jen holding Lavender’s hand. She was shaking terribly and
had been crying.

Harry knew she must have had a serious shock. She had assumed Hermione’s form, something Jen had
promised never to do unless they were alone.

“Really, I’m fine. I’ll be okay,” she was saying in an uneven voice, looking into the flames of
the fire.

“What happened?” asked Harry quietly and at once the group around her parted slightly.

Parvati, sitting next to Jen with her arm around her, spoke first. “It was those idiots,” and
she nodded over towards the Third years. “They decided to practice some duelling here in the common
room.”

Lavender continued, “Yeah, except of course they didn’t use wands. We think they had some
fireworks that they had *improved*.”

“The first one they set off had a small flash and a louder bang. The others, well, you can see
they weren’t as good.”

“And their aim was as bad as their improvements. Kim tried to stop them and got one lobbed at
her when her back was turned. Jen jumped in front of it just in time. She caught the full blast.
Kim could have been really hurt,” finished Parvati, clearly trying to remain calm.

Harry knelt down and faced Jen. “Are you hurt?” he asked with concern.

“I’m fine. I just need some rest and I’ll be as right as rain.” Then she said seriously, “It was
an accident, Harry. No harm was intended.”

Harry frowned slightly, but nodded.

“Come on. Lets get you upstairs where it’s quiet,” said Lavender.

Jen stood and as she did so, transformed into Parvati. The entire group guided Jen up to the
dormitories, several of them alternatively giving gentle words of encouragement and shooting dark
looks over to the Third Years. Hermione had stopped berating them and allowed them to see the
procession pass before continuing her reprimands.

The dull pain in Harry’s side intensified.

*

Harry woke in the middle of the night. He was worried about Jen. She had looked so shaken and
had been looking tired even before the events a few hours ago.

As he lay unable to get back to sleep, he felt a familiar tear within him. *Jen must be in
pain*, Harry thought. At that moment the pain in his side intensified yet again.

As the pain subsided, Harry leapt from his bed and staggered down to the common room.

The room was dark, lit only by the dying embers of the fire. Harry was relieved to find Jen in
her arachnid form on the rug in front of the fire. Harry went over to her and she instantly took
Hermione’s form. She was very pale and still shaking, her face damp with perspiration.

“Hi,” she said warmly, and at once her face distorted as a spasm of pain went through her. Harry
felt the same spasm, deeper and longer than ever before. Ignoring his own pain, reached out and
gently held her shoulders in his hands.

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes and his voice failed him as he looked into her eyes.

“Harry, it’s high time we had another fireside chat,” she gasped with a small smile. “This time
you must listen. You have to believe me. We don’t have time …”

Harry shook his head. “No. You’ll get better. You just need to rest.”

“I also need you to promise me a couple of things. You have to tell her. Promise me-” Jen
stopped as she wretched with pain.

“I so wanted to be brave, Harry,” she gasped, “but I’m so scared.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “You are brave.”

*

A short while later, Harry stood outside Hagrid’s cabin, having gently placed on the ground a
small packing crate that he had transfigured from a log by the common room fire.

There were no lights on and the only sound was the rustling of the leaves in the nearby
trees.

For a moment Harry had considered not disturbing Hagrid, especially at this time of night. He
was going into the forbidden forest and needed Hagrid, not so much for protection but as a
friend.

Hagrid would understand. Hagrid would help him.

Harry wiped his face and approached the door. Harry raised his arm and was about to knock when
he heard something move behind him.

“’Arry? Wot you doin’ out this time?”

Harry let go his breath.

“Hagrid, I need your help. Jen was hurt this afternoon and now she’s… she’s…”

Hagrid looked over at the crate and stepped close to Harry. He placed a large hand gently on
Harry’s shoulder. When Harry looked up Hagrid nodded in understanding.

“It was awful, she was in so much pain. She died in my arms, Hagrid. The pain was so intense but
it went when the connection was finally broken. She transformed back into a small spider form
after.”

Tears were falling freely now.

He wiped his face and began again. “She wanted to be buried in the forest.” After a moment he
explained, “I couldn’t leave her… let anyone see her …”

“I understan’. Give us a mo’. Grab a couple of spades from roun’ back will ye?”

Harry nodded and watched as Hagrid entered his door. Harry couldn’t express how grateful he was
to Hagrid at that moment.

Harry went around the side of Hagrid’s cabin where he knew he kept an assortment of tools. He
managed to find one enormous digging spade another smaller one he thought he could handle.

He met back with Hagrid as he emerged with a large lantern and closed his door quietly.

*

As the early dawn of a new day broke over the forest, Harry and Hagrid stood silently before
Jen’s newly dug grave.

Hagrid stood back while Harry finished back-filling the earth. They had gone a little into the
forest into a clearing and Harry had chosen a spot under the branches of a large tree that would
shade the grave. Harry just felt it was the right place.

No magic had been used and Harry and Hagrid had taken turns to dig. They had spoken very little
through the night.

Hearing a noise behind them, they both turned quickly, each automatically raising a spade in
self-defence.

Approaching them into the clearing were Albus Dumbledore and Hermione. As soon as he saw them,
Harry realised that Hagrid must have got a message to the Headmaster before they left the
cabin.

They lowered their spades.

“I’m so very sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore said sombrely and he stood for a moment beside Harry
looking down at the grave. He then took out his wand and without words conjured a large roughly
hewn headstone placed neatly at the head of the grave.

Harry noted that there were no markings or inscription on the stone.

After a long moment, while all four stood before the grave in silent thought, Dumbledore looked
up said, “Hagrid and I will meet with you both back at Hagrid’s house. If you stick to this
clearing and the path that we came along you will not be in any danger. None of the forest’s
inhabitants will disturb you while you are here.”

Hermione nodded and smiled weakly.

When Dumbledore and Hagrid were almost at the edge of the clearing, Harry heard Hagrid’s low
deep carrying voice answer, “Yes, Professor,” in answer to something inaudible the Dumbledore had
said.



22. The Waking Forest
---------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 22: The Waking Forest**

Staring down at the new grave, Harry said quietly, “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione looked deep in thought and didn’t answer at once but then said, “Hm?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to. Jen wanted me to. I just couldn’t.”

Hermione looked up and said, “Let’s sit for a while,” and went over to an ornate timber and iron
park bench seat nearby.

“I didn’t see this before,” commented Harry as he sat down next to Hermione.

“It wasn’t here before. I think Dumbledore must have done it before he left.”

They sat for a while, taking in the noises of the waking forest. Harry took a deep steadying
breath.

“I told you before how Jen attacked me at Grimmauld Place.”

“Yes.”

“There is something I haven’t told, well a couple things actually, that I have not told anyone.
They are the reasons why Jen was so special to me. I wanted you to know but I couldn’t find a way
to tell you.”

Hermione waited.

When Harry did not continue, she said, “I came down to the common room earlier. I was worried
about Jen but I found Professor Dumbledore. He told me he had got a message from Hagrid, but I
think he knew something was wrong before then. We talked for a while and then he suggested we
should go and find you.”

“I wish they could have met. Jen and Dumbledore I mean,” said Harry sadly.

“They did.”

Harry looked up in surprise. “I didn’t know. When?”

“He told me this morning that if Gryffindor was to have a guest, then he felt obliged to satisfy
himself that they did not present a risk to the students. He …”

Hermione hesitated.

“What?”

“He said he didn’t want you to think *he* couldn’t trust your judgement.” Hermione looked
at Harry tentatively, trying to read his reaction to this.

“It was the right thing to do. For all he knew, she *might* have been dangerous. And I
suppose I can’t blame him for not saying anything.”

Looking relieved, Hermione continued, “He also said he had been curious to know what really
happened to you over the summer.”

“Did she tell him?”

“He said they had a long conversation during the second day of term, and yes, Jen did tell him.
I asked what she said, of course, but he just said *ask Harry.* Jen had asked him not to say
anything but Dumbledore did say that he was sure she had told him the truth and consistent with
everything he saw when he looked into your mind when you were at Grimmauld Place. He had been sure
then, that Jen no longer presented any danger, at least to you. He said you’ve been blocking his
attempts to read you since then, though.”

“He saw? *Everything*?” Harry asked a little too quickly.

Harry took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh. He half wished Dumbledore had told Hermione,
but at the same time he was uncomfortable: how much had Dumbledore seen?

“He just said ask Harry,” Hermione said simply, “although he was wearing a funny sort of smile
when he said it.”

*So he did see everything,* Harry thought.

“When Jen and I attacked each other,” Harry began, “we both went into a sort of a coma. While we
were both unconscious, I was actually awake but awake inside my mind. I awoke surrounded by things
from my memories. I thought they were real at first. The first thing I noticed was a framed print
hanging on the wall. It was nothing special but that identical print and frame had been thrown away
by my Uncle after Dudley had defaced it.”

“While I was thinking about the print, Jen burst into the room telling me to get up so we could
start revising for my OWL re-sits. When we left the bedroom, I was in a large room, a bit like a
library with shelves and shelves of file boxes and books. Jen explained that the boxes appeared to
be my memories and immediately set about reorganising!”

“Reorganising?” asked Hermione, trying to take in this new version of what had happened.

“Jen thought my mind was a bit cluttered. You know, I think she did some good too. I have been
better at remembering things lately.”

“Anyway,” continued Harry, “I think the whole library thing was just a representation. Just a
reality that my mind could accept while I was recovering.

“She followed me back here to Hogwarts. If she hadn’t, I’m not sure either of us would have
survived being torn apart. We remained linked, but that isn’t what really motivated her to follow
me. She was determined that I should accept what she had seen in me. She figured it out.

“Jen told me, after we were here, that I had affected her too. I wasn’t aware of anything, but
Jen said she had changed. She went from a creature who would kill without hesitation to one who
genuinely cared for the wellbeing of others.

“Jen had a good time staying in Gryffindor this year, Hermione. She really enjoyed having all
those laughs, the jokes, the teasing boys by kidding them she was someone else!”

Hermione gave a snort and nodded.

“She used to tell me every detail of her adventures,” continued Harry. “She had been so very
lonely and I don’t think she could quite believe how much things had changed for her. The awful
thing was that she knew she was dying. We were still linked somehow until she died a few hours ago.
All year I have been literally feeling her pain.

“But the thing she loved more than anything else was helping people with their studies. She
would glow with pride telling me how *so-and so* got *such-and-such* grade and she hadn’t
once given any of the answers.”

Hermione smiled, remembering.

“*You* did that, Hermione.”

Hermione’s smile grew a little wider and then she asked, “So you took away Jen’s predatory
instincts gave her compassion instead?”

“Well, kind of. She said she thought it was ‘*the power he knows not*’ that did it. But,
anyway, I think her instincts were overwhelmed not lost. It was the ambivalence of my feelings she
could not cope with.”

Harry took a deep breath before continuing.

“You remember, on the first night, I told everyone that Jen’s second form was *a bit
scary*?”

“Yes. What …?” said Hermione before Harry interrupted.

“Well, when I surprised Jen at Grimmauld Place, she took on that second form. Jen told me later
that she could take the form that she could best defeat her opponent.”

“Like a boggart?”

Harry gave a dry laugh, remembering Jen’s reaction to his same suggestion.

“She said yes, to a point. Boggarts only present what will scare: they use their shape shifting
as a defensive means. Jen used her abilities as an offensive weapon. She presented whatever it took
to utterly destroy her opponent. She had the wisdom of age and was extraordinarily aggressive.

“Jen told me afterwards how sorry she was for attacking me. She also said that feeling sorry for
any victim was completely alien to her. She had never failed to kill and consume any victim
before.

“Jen presented to me a form to which she knew I had no defence and could not attack. It made no
difference that I had no time to react and no wand. I was just finished.”

“What form? Not dementors,” Hermione started, “couldn’t be Voldemort because Jen could only take
female forms.”

“No, Jen was more subtle than that anyway,” Harry continued before Hermione could finish her
train of thought. “The form she took in order to destroy me unfortunately was the very same form
that gives me strength to never give up. Some subconscious part of me knew somehow how to fight
back. Did you ever notice that Jen never once took your form all year, apart from last night?”

“Yes, I noticed,” Hermione said a little stiffly.

“That was because I asked her not to.”

Hermione turned her head suddenly and asked, “Why?”

“When I got back to Grimmauld Place I was in a terrible state what with Sirius and you and the
Ministry. When we were in our coma and I fully remembered what had happened, I got in a bit of a
state again. It was Jen who helped me and got me through it. She made me talk about things. Since
she had access to all my memories there seemed little point not to.”

Harry looked straight into Hermione’s eyes and said, “Jen, in my coma, took *your* form.
She was my memory of *you*. Jen knew that I only really listen to you and you’re the person I
trust more than *anyone*.

“Jen knew that just because she could look and sound like you, it didn’t make me react the same
way. But when she spoke of the things you are passionate about, that was when I found it difficult
to differentiate between you. She made me talk everything through.

“That was why Jen loved the things you love. She felt my reactions and my emotions, and those
reactions and emotions are strongest are when I think of you and when I’m with you. She loved being
you.”

“W-What are you saying?”

“You are the only person I trust to tell what creature Jen knew would utterly defeat me. I
should have asked you a long time ago, but would you like to know now?”

“Yes, what was it?”

“It’s actually more of a who than a what.”

“Okay, *who* was it?” asked Hermione a little acerbically.

“You.”

“What?”

“It was you. It was you with a truly awful look and saying some terrible things.”

“What things?”

“That you didn’t want to be my friend – that you blamed me for Sirius and Cedric – that I should
have been expelled – that you’d never love me – that you thought I was just an attention seeking
weirdo who made everything up – that …”

Harry stopped when Hermione placed her hand on his, feeling his throat tighten.

They remained quiet for a few moments.

The Hermione spoke quietly, “You know I don’t think any of those things, don’t you Harry?
Well?”

When Harry did not respond, she continued. “Do you think I’m not your friend?”

“Of course not,” Harry said firmly, “it’s just … don’t you see? … That’s the point. It’s
*you* saying it that makes it so, so …”

“That is ridiculous. Are you really that insecure?” Hermione began, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, let me try to explain,” he began.

“When I was in the graveyard and Voldemort was about to finish me, it was your face that made me
keep some hope. When Dudley and I were attacked by Dementors, it was remembering you that helped me
produce a real patronus. To be completely honest, you weren’t the only one I was thinking of at
those times. But when we were at the Ministry and you got hurt, I could not go on. Only when
Neville felt a pulse could I even think about getting the others out.”

“Harry, …”

“I know, you’re thinking *pathetic,*” he said with a small smile.

“Not entirely,” replied Hermione. She was not smiling.

“Well, I think you should know that I can do pathetic too! When I’m playing Quidditch, I’ve only
won when I’ve seen you cheering. I can’t face the day unless I’ve had a *good morning* from
you. I even leave some homework late in the hope of being scolded by you.”

Hermione just rolled her eyes at this.

“Yeah, and I quite like it when you do that too.”

Standing and holding out her hand, Hermione said, “You know, I’m not surprised Jen didn’t want
to stay in your head, Harry, it’s quite a messed up place.”

Taking her hand, Harry allowed himself to be pulled up from the seat and led over to the
grave.

Harry wasn’t feeling at all pleased with himself. He’d managed not to lie, exactly, but he
certainly hadn’t told her everything. The pain in his side, Jen’s pain, was gradually subsiding and
he was already feeling his scar prickle again. He had lost his link with Jen now. It was
beginning.

The anguish he was feeling made it a little easier for him to push those thoughts away for a
little longer.

Blooming forest flowers had begun to grow over the freshly placed earth already.

Harry and Hermione stood for a while in silence looking at the ornate carvings that had appeared
on the stone headstone.



23. Remembering
---------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 23: Remembering**

As Harry and Hermione walked slowly along the path back towards the edge of the forest, Harry
caught sight of Hagrid peering through the trees ahead.

Hagrid’s concerned look relaxed when he saw them and he shouted, “’Bout time! I’ll put the
kettle on!” before disappearing.

Hermione stopped as Harry took a further step forward. He gripped her hand a little firmer. They
had held hands since they left the graveside and Harry was suddenly afraid to loose it.

“Hermione, I-” began Harry nervously.

“-No, Harry,” Hermione emphatically cut across him.

Harry felt mortified.

“I’m not going to hear this now. Not today. We’ve just lost Jen and I think that’s enough to be
going on with.”

“I just …”

A small smirk grew across Hermione’s face as she set off again. Pulling Harry along she said,
“And besides, I’m not sure that I’m entirely ready to forgive you yet.”

“What for?” blurted Harry.

“You told the whole of Gryffindor that I was scarier than a ten foot spider!” Hermione said
loudly.

Harry watched as a range of expressions played across her face until finally she burst into
tears. He wrapped her in his arms.

“How could I have said that?” she sobbed into his shirt.

“I promise you,” said Harry gently, “Jen made the same comment and she would have been
disappointed if you hadn’t made the same observation.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said, still sounding muffled.

“There’s no need. You know? I think I argued with Jen that I didn’t actually say that, but if
you want to argue about it you’ll have to let go. I’m finding it a bit difficult to concentrate
right now,” Harry said honestly.

Hermione lifted her head and smiled tearfully up at him, not letting go.

As they cleared the trees and moved towards Hagrid’s hut, Harry smiled to himself. Jen had been
right all along.

*

Harry was surprised to see a crowd of people sitting around the entrance to Hagrid’s house.
Professor McGonagall was there with the Headmaster together with what looked like every single
Gryffindor. Everyone was sitting on a wide assortment of comfortable seats and Hagrid was just
finishing handing out mugs of tea from an enormous battered tray.

Harry and Hermione sat down at a small settee as Hagrid lent down and offered them teas. They
each took a chipped enamel mug whispering, “Thanks,” and Hagrid gave them both a reassuring
wink.

As Hagrid stepped aside, Dumbledore said, “Lavender, you started telling us about Jen’s fondness
of fashion. I’d love to hear more.”

They all listened, laughed, groaned and cried as everyone told of their memories of Jen and how
she had impacted their lives in the short time she was there.

Harry just listened for a long while until his attention was drawn to the small dejected group
of Third years at the edge of the group, none of them daring to look up in fear of catching
anyone’s eye. Harry knew how they must be feeling and felt compelled to speak.

Harry stood and everyone looked toward him.

As he spoke he found his voice was strong and unwavering.

“When Jen came to stay with us I told you she was recovering from an illness. The truth is she
had suffered from an attack. My attack. We attacked each other. With Jen’s help I recovered.
Unfortunately Jen’s injuries were fatal and she knew she was dying. We were always going to lose
her. Jen was a magical creature. She could not be hurt in any way by fireworks or any magic we
could produce. It was nobody’s fault but mine. I’ll have to live with that, but I’ll do so knowing
that she forgave me.”

Harry glanced over to Dumbledore who gave a small reassuring smile back.

“Jen loved being here and being with us. Thank you. You all made Jen’s time here the happiest of
her life.”

Harry sat down and turned towards Hermione who had silent tears streaming down her face. Harry
raised his arm and Hermione lent in and rested her head on his shoulder.

They all sat in silence for a while, Harry comforting Hermione. When then they eventually rose
to go back up to the castle, Harry found that he felt a little better.

He and Hermione were almost the last to leave but Harry was quite taken aback when he saw who
else had been present. Draco was standing and extending a hand to pull Pansy up. They had been
sitting there listening all the time but he hadn’t noticed. They acknowledged each other with a nod
and walked together back up to the castle.

*

Almost two weeks later Harry, Ron and Hermione were walking through the grounds when Hermione
interrupted Harry and Ron’s stupid but engaging conversation about how Ron’s last spectacular foul
on an opposing Chaser should never have been given as a penalty especially as the Chaser had
regained consciousness so quickly.

“When you and Jen attacked each other, Jen got a blast of something from you that changed a
predatory, ferocious monster into the caring, loving Jen we knew.”

Harry did not respond. He knew where this was going, and he was hardly in a fit state to avoid
Hermione’s searching questions.

Harry was so tired, not having slept properly since Jen died.

Ron thought he was making himself ill. Thankfully, he had kept his word and not said anything to
Hermione. Of course, he kept telling Harry she should speak to Hermione, especially when he caught
Harry desperately trying to stop shaking in the mornings. In fact, Harry almost suspected Jen had
tasked Ron with continuing her nagging.

“So when Jen attacked, what did *you* get?”

“Er, knocked out,” said Harry but seeing Hermione’s eyes narrow he thought he had better find a
better answer. The problem was Harry did not want to answer properly, not yet anyway. He wasn’t
entirely sure himself anyway.

“Well,” Harry continued, “I suppose there could be something else.”

Harry glanced at Ron who surprisingly quickly realised Harry had a problem with this line of
questions.

Ron immediately took over Hermione’s line of questioning, determined *never* to discover
Harry’s new *gift*.

“Well it’s obviously spider related. Have you tried walking up walls yet?”

“Have you made any webs lately?”

“More legs?”

Hermione laughed despite herself as Ron’s ideas became more and more ludicrous but stopped as
soon as Ron made to fetch Lavender over so she could check if Harry had got hairier legs.

Harry realised the point was long overdue for him to fulfil his promise to Jen and tell
Hermione. He still had no idea how, and he was terrified of her reaction. Jen had been pleading
with him all year, but it was different now. Perhaps he could tell her part of it, at least.

Harry smiled at Hermione and said quietly so only she could hear, “I’m sorry. It will soon be
Saturday. How about we take a picnic and have lunch in the forest clearing? Just us two. Jen told
me the thing she saw in me when she attacked me. I didn’t really believe her before. It was too bad
to believe.”

“*In* you?”

“Yes. I think Jen left me with a couple of things. One was an ability to do Occlumency properly.
She didn’t do it on purpose but took the credit anyway. She said I wouldn’t have any more excuses
not to talk to you properly if Voldemort wasn’t listening in.”

Hermione looked at him quizzically. He hadn’t meant to say that and continued before she could
ask anything.

“I’ve only just begun to realise what the others could be. I’d like to be close to Jen when I
try to explain.”

The physical pain that Harry had felt all year had gone as soon as his grief for Jen began to
ease. This was made easier with the knowledge that part of Jen would always be with him.

Hermione looked into Harry’s eyes and said, “I’d like that. We’ll have to clear it with Hagrid
first, though.”

She still looked very concerned, as she did every time when she looked at him lately.

Harry and Hermione then walked over to join Ron who was talking animatedly to Lavender and
Parvati about a new and dangerous sounding product Fred and George wanted him to test.

*

Harry trudged miserably into the practice arena within his trunk. It was late into the
night.

His opponent appeared, and for a moment Harry was quite taken aback.

Looking absolutely identical to himself, Harry realised how terrible he looked. He was standing
looking uncomfortable and slightly hunched. He had bloodshot eyes with dark rings around them.

Harry was particularly disconcerted by the shaking hands.

Harry wearily raised his wand to begin, not caring what his weakened defences would let through.
Any physical pain was better than this.

Harry’s additional defence lessons with Professor Flitwick and his regular grudge duels with
Snape had been ended abruptly by Dumbledore as soon as Jen died.

Dumbledore had explained that Harry would be bound to take out his anger and frustration on his
duelling opponents. In his current emotional state he might lose control. Harry had to agree he had
a point, and had stopped all duels with live opponents.

The Headmaster had given Harry an open invitation to come and visit him at any time to talk
about anything he wanted.

Harry appreciated the offer but so far hadn’t taken him up on the offer. As much as he wanted
help, Harry knew in his current state he could not prevent Dumbledore seeing the real source of his
troubles.

Harry had been glad that Hagrid had been more than understanding with him, content at first to
let Harry visit. They would brood together quietly. Hagrid, who obviously knew there was something
very wrong with Harry, couldn’t stem his questions for long. Unfortunately, this just drove Harry
away.

The breaking of his link with Jen had brought his link with Voldemort back with a vengeance. His
scar seared with pain.

Jen had told him he could fight this, that he could find the strength and that he didn’t need
her.

He really had no idea how.

Harry fired a weak stunner and was immediately hit by a stinging hex. It too was weak, but he
still felt the burn. He sighed shakily with relief. For just a moment the pain had distracted him
from the pain in his scar.

He fired again.



24. Blindingly Obvious
----------------------

**The Last Kefsen by Jardyn39**

**Chapter 24: Blindingly Obvious**

Harry placed the enormous picnic basket down onto the dry midday grass. Dobby had absolutely
insisted that, even though he only needed lunch for two, Harry had to take full provisions. Harry
had drawn the line at Dobby’s request to actually serve them lunch, pointing out that Winky might
like some company for Saturday lunch as well.

Hermione spread the warm waterproof ground sheet out as Harry went over to Jen’s grave.

As he approached he felt some of the anguish and torment he’d been feeling ease. Indeed, he had
felt a little better from the moment they’d entered the forest a few minutes ago. He was still so
very tired, and his scar burned, but at least he felt something better.

He couldn’t really explain why this was, but it was almost like a little optimism appeared
within him.

Even though she had not been buried long, the forest had quickly claimed Jen. Her grave was now
covered in a thick arrangement of blooming flowers. Harry had thought that this might be
Dumbledore’s doing, but he had insisted that other than the bench seat and the headstone,
everything else was her very own considerable magic. It was as if the forest had welcomed her
back.

Harry felt Hermione’s hand clasp his and they stood still there in silence for a long
moment.

“Jen made me promise I would tell you,” began Harry. “I didn’t because I was scared how you
would react. I still am, to be honest.”

Hermione sniffed and Harry glanced sideways to see a solitary tear fall down her cheek.

“Hey,” he said gently, turning to her.

Hermione wound her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Harry wrapped his arms
around her and gently bowed his head. Hermione shifted her head slightly and they stayed cheek to
cheek for a while.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Hermione nodded and asked, “Tell me some more about Jen.”

“Actually,” he began, stroking her back gently, “she kept wanting me to tell her more about you.
The portrait was a bit of a give-away, you see.”

“Portrait?”

“Yes, the one in my library during our coma. One wall was covered in paintings of all those that
are important to me. They were all different sizes and their frames kept jostling around to get a
better position. The biggest portrait, the one right in the centre of the wall over the fireplace,
was of you.”

Harry paused for a moment, half afraid Hermione was going to kick him or something.

“Go on,” she prompted. “I’m still listening.”

“Right. She kept nagging me to speak to you. It was quite disconcerting, her looking and
sounding just like you and having a go at me for not facing up to how I felt.”

Hermione snorted.

“Yeah,” agreed Harry gently, “Jen thought I was being stupid as well, but it was only when I saw
you back here for real, that I fully realised just how far I’d repressed my feelings. On the one
hand I wanted, no,” he corrected himself, “*needed* you to feel the same way but at the same
time I was terrified about what would happen if you did.”

“Nothing’s simple with you, is it, Harry?”

Harry had no idea what to say to that. Thankfully, Hermione continued.

“Well, today we’re standing in an enchanted clearing, protected from anything harmful that might
be wandering through the forest. I also happen to know that anyone, other than Hagrid and
Dumbledore, following the path here will just find themselves back at the forest edge again.
There’s no need to repress any feelings and nothing to be terrified about.”

“Except you,” quipped Harry.

“No, Harry,” Hermione said repressing a laugh. “I’m not going to make you say anything before
you’re ready. Just enjoy the day.”

Hermione shifted slightly and Harry looked down to see Hermione looking up at him.

He felt tears prickle the corners of his eyes.

“Is it so bad?” she asked in a whisper.

Harry couldn’t speak. He just nodded.

“Tell me,” she commanded.

Harry nodded and sighed as Hermione rested her head back against his chest, waiting for him to
speak.

“Jen saw something in me. Something dark. She speculated at first that I might have a second
soul inside me. She thought it might have protected me.”

“What are you saying, Harry?”

“It’s him, or part of him. Voldemort. Jen thought that when he attacked me, his spirit got torn
in two. What escaped was just his intellect or something unfeeling anyway. The rest found its way
into me, somehow.”

“I suppose that might explain how you are linked,” said Hermione casually.

“Hermione, this is serious,” he said earnestly. “Dumbledore has let me try some pretty dark
magic this year, against his better judgement. I’ve got more than a knack for them. Sometimes I
feel I’m descending into something evil, that I’ll loose control.”

“Harry, think about this. Dumbledore is more than capable of the darkest spells you’ve been able
to do, isn’t he? I don’t believe that Dumbledore would descend to evil any more than I believe you
could. It’s how you apply your knowledge that counts.”

“He hinted that he’s been tempted though.”

“He’s human, just like you. He can be tempted, but I think he resisted. So can you. I remember
you declaring you would never turn to the Dark Side. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, of course not,” said Harry indignantly. “I’m afraid I won’t have a choice.”

“You’ll always have a choice, Harry. Okay, those choices may not be easy, but you are free to
make them.”

“Really? I wonder sometimes.”

“Don’t,” she said emphatically. Harry decided not to argue.

After a moment, Harry continued.

“Jen thought that it all this started because of the link between myself and Voldemort. First of
all, something inside me reached out and attacked her. Instead of dying immediately, Jen got split
as well and joined with me. I wondered for a while if maybe Voldemort and I were in a coma as well,
although I don’t remember anything. I’ve no idea what happened to his body.

“Jen joked that dying in such a unique way would be a fitting end for the last of her people.
She knew she was the last of her kind. I think that’s why she was such a prize when she was
captured, all those years ago.

“Anyway, Jen was changed. She became you, or rather, my memories and feelings of you. She might
have changed how she looked sometimes, but she always remained you inside. As she got to know the
real you better, it became difficult for me to tell you apart. The only difference was the pain. I
always felt the pain of her injuries.”

They stood together for a moment before Hermione said, “Come on, let’s have something to
eat.”

She gently pulled herself away and grabbing Harry’s hand pulled him over to the groundsheet and
hamper.

Harry undid the basket buckles but was distracted as Hermione said, “I’m so glad the weather has
improved. I was getting fed up of the cold and rain.”

What particularly distracted Harry was Hermione’s tee shirt riding dangerously high as he pulled
her woolly jumper off over her head. He quickly busied himself with the hamper, wishing he could
control his blushing.

Harry lifted out the salad boxes and placed them on the groundsheet. Hermione was brushing her
hair back with her fingers and apparently hadn’t noticed her top wasn’t quite down yet, a wide
expanse of flesh still exposed.

“Um, Hermione,” began Harry going very red and pointing at her midriff. “Your top, is er.”

Hermione looked at him quite bemused for a moment before looking down, clearing wondering what
the problem was.

She smiled realising the source of his embarrassment.

“What, you don’t like this top?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t mean. I just wanted you to know.”

Harry couldn’t face her but knew she was grinning at him.

“Well, if it’s not the top it must be me that’s so objectionable.”

“You know what I meant,” he replied, still not looking at her.

“I’m not too keen on this old thing either, actually.”

The tee shirt landed on Harry’s head. He wasn’t sure if he dared look.

Hermione was laughing at him, sitting quite respectably in some kind of gym top.

“You did that on purpose,” accused Harry, removing the still warm top from his head and throwing
it back to her.

“Me?” she asked with false surprise.

“You’d better not ask me what I think of the rest of your outfit.”

“Is that a dare?” she asked mischievously pretending to pull off her remaining top.

“NO,” shouted Harry, suddenly very angrily. “I’m sorry,” he added shakily.

Hermione immediately scooted over to him and put her arms around his neck.

“Shh,” she said gently. “It’s okay, but I think it’s about time you told me the truth. I’m sorry
I provoked you.”

Harry shook his head, his arms wrapped around her.

“Harry, it’s okay to have these feelings. It doesn’t mean you’re evil. Hormonal, maybe, but not
evil.”

“You don’t understand. It’s the dreams. You have no idea what he makes me watch. Ever since Jen
died and our connection was lost. The Occlumency is still working but it’s like part of me is still
reaching out to him. I’m not sure if I’m seeing just his dreams or if it’s real. It’s a never
ending stream of sadistic images. The worst thing is that I can feel what he’s feeling.”

“I thought it might be something like this,” Hermione said sympathetically. “I used to catch you
looking at me all the time, but you stopped.”

“I was scared I was becoming something evil.”

“No, Harry. I do have a solution, if you’re interested. Blindingly obvious, actually.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Your connection with Jen was strong enough to distract you from reaching out to Voldemort. I’m
not sure if that’s what is really happening, but it makes no difference. You just need to forge
another, that’s all.”

“How?”

Hermione sighed in a way Harry knew he was missing something obvious again.

She brought her lips to his and kissed him, pushing him onto his back and not letting go.

*

It was almost dusk before they actually spoke another word. Both of them had dozed a little in
the warm afternoon sun, the picnic food long forgotten.

Harry woke from the first peaceful sleep he’d had for ages. Curled up next to him was
Hermione.

He stroked her bare arm that rested across his chest and she stirred with a little shiver. It
was getting cooler now.

Harry tugged at the ground sheet and wrapped both sides around them both. They would stay just a
little longer.

“I’m still annoyed with you,” Hermione said playfully.

Harry considered for a moment and then replied, “Could you narrow the reasons down for me.”

Hermione snorted and then wriggled about to get comfortable again.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said eventually. “Firstly, you should have come and told me
everything. Jen may have looked and sounded like me, but she wasn’t me.”

“I know,” said Harry. “Jen said that I assumed she had your knowledge and feelings even though
she kept telling me she didn’t. I made her promise not to tell anyone. Because she knew everything,
I didn’t think it was safe to give her any exceptions.”

“I kept on asking her. Unfortunately, she kept her word.”

“Of course she did,” said Harry with a smile. “She became you.”

“Well, it was my mistake not to confront you months ago,” said Hermione. “I was just scared I’d
just push you away. For a long time, I thought I had.”

“Not possible,” whispered Harry.

“Part of me hoped you were trying to tell me something with that trunk. From your reaction when
we met-”

“I said I was sorry about that!” interrupted Harry. “*Ow*!” he said after being pinched by
Hermione. “What was that for?”

“Harry, pay attention,” she said laughing. “Where was I?”

“Um, *from my reaction*.”

“Thanks,” she continued, relaxing back against him. “From your reaction I knew you hadn’t
actually planned for our fourth compartments to be linked. Of course, that would have been too much
to hope for. Jen kind of explained what happened when I showed her around the bathroom. I was
trying to get her to tell me why you hadn’t even tried to get back in again. Actually, she managed
to get more information out of me, than I of her.”

Hermione paused before prompting, “So? Why didn’t you?”

“Sorry, I was waiting for another pinch,” admitted Harry. “I didn’t think you would want anyone
to wander in while you were having a bath. I’d have given you my key except my trunk only has the
one.”

Hermione groaned.

“Harry, remember the trunk rules. You told us, no-one can enter without the owner’s consent. If
I didn’t want you to enter, you could never have got in. The mere fact that your key turned should
have told you that.”

“Oh,” said Harry.

“And no, Harry, I would not like anyone to wander in,” continued Hermione. “You are not just
*anyone* to me, Harry, and I do wish you’d try and remember that.”

“I’ll try,” he said, gently kissing her forehead. “Not that I believe you’d really want me to
visit again on a bath night.”

“I just wanted you to relax and talk to me. As for visiting again, you’ll just have to see if
that key ever works again, won’t you? Incidentally, Jen picked out all your favourite shampoo and
bubble bath scents, and I have plenty.”

“So what was with all the furniture in the Room of Requirement?”

Hermione’s head shot up.

“I’m kidding!” pleaded Harry, divided between laughing and defending himself.

Hermione smiled and rested her head back down.

“That was a bit embarrassing,” she admitted.

“I thought I’d better be polite and not mention anything at the time.”

“Sure, Harry, like you even noticed.”

“Well, maybe not immediately,” he admitted. “To be honest, I thought the Room was just giving us
what I really wanted.”

After a moment, Harry asked, “Hermione, what form did Jen take when she visited you? I assume
you were alone?”

“Yes, Jen is the only person I’ve shown the bathroom to,” said Hermione. “Jen adopted her true
form,” she said carefully.

“Her arachnid form?”

“No, her natural form. She was really quite beautiful. It took quite a lot out of her, I
think.”

“I wish I could have seen her,” mused Harry. “She always wanted to take your form around
me.”

“She was very much in love with you, Harry. She said she loved the look you gave her before you
made up your mind which of us she was.”

“I must have seemed very cold. Unfortunately, she knew my heart was taken.”

They were quite for a long while.

Suddenly, Harry remembered something.

“You never caught me looking at you, not once. I’m an expert.”

Hermione laughed, kissed him briefly and then proceeded to give surprisingly accurate dates and
times.

Harry naturally insisted that Hermione had missed well over half, although he wasn’t entirely
sure that she believed him.

END